


I'm Falling Apart, But Only On The Inside

by kurthummeldeservesbetter



Series: Everyone is a Senior Verse [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Descriptive Bashing, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rachel Berry Bashing, Sleep Deprivation, Suicide Attempt Mention/Reference, mild rachel berry bashing, supportive new directions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28079601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurthummeldeservesbetter/pseuds/kurthummeldeservesbetter
Summary: Fueled by Dave’s suicide attempt, Kurt finds himself in an alleyway, pulling some neanderthal off of a boy. In the end, he realizes what he’s done may have been completely stupid (he was never a fighter) but Kurt doesn’t regret one bit of it.Until the newest duets competition starts bringing him bad memories, and he begins reexperiencing the worst things to happen to him.(Repost from old account, same name.)S3 On My Way AU
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel, Mike Chang/Tina Cohen-Chang, Rachel Berry/Finn Hudson, Sam Evans/Mercedes Jones, Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce
Series: Everyone is a Senior Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057049
Comments: 8
Kudos: 44





	1. How Kurt Saved a Life and Ruined a Wedding, All in One Night

Kurt pulled into the parking lot of the Lima Bean, eyes scanning the coffeeshop ahead. He had about forty minutes before the ceremony was supposed to start, luck granting him good time. Finn had begged him to grab the rings he’d forgotten at home, as well as a coffee, since the Lima Bean was on the way. He’d gone alone, telling Blaine to go ahead to the courthouse, to support Rachel’s ‘bridal party’ since he and Kurt had been dubbed honorary bridesmaids, or bridesmen, as Blaine had corrected. 

Why Finn didn’t just get a coffee at the courthouse, Kurt didn’t know, but Finn was also getting married in high school, so he wasn’t about to find any sort of logic in the choices his stepbrother was making. 

(He’d also believed that by the time he made it to the courthouse, someone would have made Finn and Rachel realize getting married at seventeen and eighteen was a total mistake.) 

**K: I’ll be there in like 20. Finn had me grab him a coffee. Don’t know why he won’t just drink the coffee they have there, but whatever**

**B: The courthouse coffeemaker is horrible. Even Puck won’t drink it and that man drinks monster energy the way normal people drink water. Sam said it looks like the creature from the black lagoon.**

**K: gross. Then it’s understandable.**

**B: Get me a coffee too**

Kurt smirked, typing a quick reply as he stepped out of the navigator, Finn’s wedding ring box bouncing in his suit pocket. 

**K: What’s the magic word?**

**B: Please : ) Bc you love me and Rachel is being a brideszilla and won’t let me wear a bowtie. B: She’s also trying to get me to un-gel my hair : (**

**K: Poor baby. Only because I love you. I was already working on it anyways. She ask why I’m not there yet?**

**K: Also I’m only grabbing you and Finn coffee because I only have two hands and I probably shouldn’t be here anyways.**

**K: I’ve already had like five cups today so no coffee or caffeine for me : (**

**B: Thank you < 3 **

**B: Also we need to talk about your coffee intake. When did you even have time to drink that much coffee?**

He stepped into the Lima Bean, tapping his foot idly in line as he waited. It was pretty packed inside, so Kurt knew he had to get in and get out, already running low on time. Finn had begged him to go get the rings from the house, after he had realized he didn’t have them when leaving McKinley. While he still disagreed with his brother’s and friend’s choice to get married, Kurt couldn’t find it in himself to argue any further. The wedding was happening way to soon, but Kurt didn’t want to ruin it, or stop it, because he wouldn’t help his brother out. He was petty, not cruel. 

Then Finn had texted him, asking him for a coffee, since it was on the way, they still had an hour of time, all while thinking the caffeine would clear his pre-wedding jitters. Kurt didn’t bother to argue. The coffee would be his wedding gift. 

**B: To answer your question, we told her Carole had you go to the house to get some ‘traditional’ wedding thing.**

**K: Did you say what it should be? That way I have an answer if she asks? Bc I am not good at lying on the fly.**

**B: No you are not : ) mr ‘im a new student’ despite not wearing the uniform**

**K: hey you all said it was endearing**

**B: it was : ) anyways Puck grabbed an old football from his truck. We’re pretending it’s the ‘Hudson-family’ football that every man must throw with his father(s?) in law before getting married.**

**B: and yes, Puck also came up with the lie.**

Kurt quickly bit his tongue to keep from laughing hysterically in the middle of the Lima Bean. 

**K: Okay, hilarious.**

**K: The idea of either of the Mr. Berrys throwing am old football with Finn as a ‘tradition’ makes me actually want to see it.**

**K: Though I do feel it would have been better in the long run to just say the rings were left at home for safety rather than some strange lie. Did she buy it? Also: Straight people are weird. I promise I won’t have any weird traditions for you to learn. Or fake ones.**

**B: Straight people are weird. When I went to tell Finn you were on your way, the guys were discussing what their ‘wedding nights’ would be like.**

**B: But like, the after-party kind : | Locker room talk is the worst.**

**B: Also, the football smells and I’m glad I’m a bridesman. Even if Rachel won’t let me wear a bowtie.**

**K: ew. gross.**

**K: But you’ll survive one night without your bowtie, B. I promise ;)**

**B: no I wont and you all will regret it**

**B: I will collapse right here and now for the drama of it all**

**B: Also: she sort of bought it? The girls have her pretty distracted right now anyways. Quinn and Tina are trying to decide what to do with her hair. Also also: Santana keeps a curling iron in her purse? I didn’t know they made tiny versions.**

Kurt’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He didn’t think Quinn was still coming, per her last statements about the wedding-according to Mercedes she had left abruptly after bridesmaids’ dress shopping-but he supposed becoming a Cheerio again had changed her mind. He gave the barista a small smile, quickly giving out Finn’s and Blaine’s usual orders, paying and moving away to the pick-up counter so he could reply. It was pretty busy-the outside tables were still not out yet, due to the still damp and icy weather-so people seemed to have taken refuge inside. 

**K: Wow. So it seems the whole gang is there, then. Has she decided on a MOH?**

**B: Do they have those at courthouse weddings?**

**K: IDK. Maybe? I only remember my Dad’s and Carole’s wedding. I was a baby ring-bearer at my aunts. That’s about it.**

**B: That’s adorable I need pics**

**K: Plus all the weddings my power rangers had were extravagant.**

**B: My wonder woman and cat woman figurines always got married at the beach. Which was my sandbox.**

**K: Awe**

**B: Anyways, Mercedes, maybe? She said it can’t be you bc you didn’t even want to wedding to happen, but she also doesn’t know if you’re Finn’s best man, being his brother and all.**

**K: I have no idea either. Maybe since I’m the one with the rings? Not that it was planned for me to have them, anyways. Or go get coffee.**

**B: When we get married someday, I promise I won’t forget the rings. Or have a wedding after a competition. Or in a courthouse. Or bring a smelly old football.**

**B: Let’s just leave it at ‘we won’t have a Finchel-esc wedding’.**

Kurt blushed-Blaine talked about marriage so casually it made his heart swell-and he begun to type out a cheeky reply, stopping when he saw the tiny dots that meant Blaine was doing the same. 

**B: Okay. They’ve decided on a hairstyle and are kicking me out now so they can get really ready. I’m going to ‘guard the door’ whatever that means.**

**B: Rachel surprised the girls with silk robes so they could look pretty while getting ready.**

**K: Awe, cute.**

**B: They’re plaid with rhinestone hearts.**

**K: oh god**

**B: Pink and red plaid. 'Valentine's Day Themed' We’re lucky we didn’t get one. Quinn got the extra bc Rachel didn’t know if you or her would decide to come.**

**K: Quinn can keep it**

**B: Rachel said the only reason I don’t have one is bc she didn’t know my size**

**B: so we really lucked out**

**B: I know Santana is on her best behavior because there is no way she doesn’t have five million things to say about those robes.**

**K: I have a million things to say about those robes and I haven’t even seen them.**

**B: you don’t want to.**

**K: Make sure Rachel is distracted long enough for me to get there before she realizes why I wasn’t there with you.**

**B: On it. Santana’s plan is to ‘accidentally’ lock her in the bathroom if you’re late.**

**K: gtg. Coffees are ready.**

**B: Drive safe. Don’t drink my coffee, you caffeine bug you.**

**K: I’m totally going to drink some of your coffee now >:) **

**B: No or I’ll tell Burt. Love you.**

**K: Love you too.**

Kurt smiled as he typed out his last reply, pocketing his phone so he could grab the coffees. He was still good on time, the courthouse was only fifteen minutes away, so his stop for coffee wouldn’t have messed anything up. Exiting the coffeeshop, he began to walk to his car, careful of the icy patches from winter that still lingered. Before he could even reach his car, however, a scream from the alleyway startled him, the coffee cups soaring out of his hands and splashing onto the pavement. Now, more annoyed (middle schoolers tended to frequent the Lima Bean now, and they were loud) he leant down to clean up the trash, before realizing the scream was most definitely one out of fear. 

Jogging-his dress shoes sliding against the slick pavement-he found himself in the alleyway, eyes growing wide as he watched two grown men attempting to wrestle a small teen to the ground. He caught the hissed ‘faggot’ from one of the men, anger coursing through him as he realized what he was witnessing. In a split second-thinking of Blaine at his Sadie Hawkins’ dance, thinking of Dave feeling so alone, thinking of all those stories he’s heard before-Kurt knew what he had to do, consequences be dammed. 

\----- 

Kurt “wakes” a few times, for a few moments, before he gains real awareness of his surroundings and is more conscious than not. 

The first is while he’s still in the alleyway, feeling a sticky, warm wetness dripping down his forehead and across his face in a diagonal pattern. His left arm hurts in a way that Kurt knows isn’t just bruising, his sight is blurry, tinted with a redness he knows is connected to the wetness across his face, but he keeps his eyes open anyways. A man cradles his shoulders in his lap as he dials 9-1-1, and his memory fades again. 

The second is when he’s in the ambulance, one paramedic dabbing at his face while the other is reading off some numbers Kurt doesn’t understand, and his current condition. He can’t really make out the words-his hearing is filled with high-pitched sounds- and his sight is still blurry, even with the red tint gone. He fades when the ambulance doors open, the bright lights of the hospital filling his vision. 

The third is while he’s in some sort of room, bright LED lights flooding his vision as he blinks them open. The room is filled with a lot of noise and a lot of people, nurses who hum comforts at him and clean him up as doctors patch him just the same as they talk to him. He fades for the last time as a needle makes his way into the crook of his arm, taking the dull and sharp pains away in seconds. 

When he really wakes up, the pain is numbed like before, but it doesn’t want to make him fall asleep. His mouth is dry, like it’s filled with cotton, and he feels heavy, but warm. Grunting, he opens his eyes, thankful the lights aren’t as bright as before and his vision is no longer blurry. As he comes to, his senses come back, the feeling of a warm hand on his shoulder as he’s adjusted in the bed to sit up. He takes the cup of water gratefully, then quickly realizes where he is, and who is with him. 

“Hey, Kurt,” a warm voice murmurs, low and calm. Finn is staring straight at him, the warm hand on his shoulder belonging to his brother. “My mom took your dad to clean up and get some coffee. They’ll be back in a few minutes.” Kurt nods, sipping at the water slowly. Since his vision and hearing are finally clear, there’s nothing to stop the flood of memories and realizations that make their way to the surface of his mind. 

One: his brother is wearing a suit, one that he planned to wear for his wedding. Kurt had begrudgingly help him pick it out, even though he still disagreed with what Finn was doing. Quinn, he had known, was doing something similar with Rachel’s wedding dress and bridesmaid dress shopping. Also: Finn isn’t wearing the ring, which means the wedding didn’t happen, not by whatever plans his parents, and Rachel’s dads, had. 

Two: He went to grab coffee for Finn and Blaine after picking up Finn’s wedding rings from the house. Finn begged him to go get the rings, almost crying, and Kurt complied. He went alone, since Blaine was still struggling with his tie (and Rachel wouldn’t let him trade it for a bowtie) but he promised his boyfriend coffee when he returned, since the courthouse coffee maker only created black sludge that even made Puck gag. 

Three: He was about to get the coffees, ring box in his suit jacket pocket, night beginning to take over the evening, when a sound of someone shouting for help stopped him. 

Four: He didn’t hesitate, running into that alleyway, ripping one of the men off of the teen, adrenaline filling his veins. He remembers the smell of alcohol, the angered grunts of the two men whose’ assault had been stopped, and the teen running off, leaving Kurt behind. His memory ends right after what he thinks was a brick cutting across his forehead and sending him to the ground. 

Five: He doesn’t regret a bit of it. 

Kurt struggles with what to say. He can feel the cast on his left arm and his right eye is swollen, even though he can still see out of it. Finn also won’t stop looking at him with a look Kurt can’t quite decipher, not because of the morphine still running through his veins (and making comprehension a hard task to complete) but because he’s never seen Finn look so…dejected? Disappointed? Mournful? Kurt can’t tell. He then thinks of the teen in the alleyway, wondering if he’s alright. He remembers the boy running off (maybe he was the one who had called the police) so he has to be…right? 

Finn, thankfully, speaks again, giving Kurt the opportunity to focus on his brother’s words rather than his own actions. 

“Kurt…man…” Finn trails, sitting down in the seat beside the bed. It hurts a bit to turn his head, but with his upright position, he manages anyways. “I am so sorry.” Kurt is taken aback, but then he realizes that Finn is teary-eyed, with red-rimmed eyes that can only come from crying before. He’s never seen Finn like this before, and guilt fills his veins the same way the morphine is. 

“W-what?” Kurt rasps, throat still dry. He doesn’t understand. “S-sorry?” 

“It’s my fault you’re here, Kurt,” Finn begins. “Had I not forgotten the rings, hell, had Rachel and I just listened to what you, Quinn, our parents, had told us about getting married, you wouldn’t be here.” Kurt swallows down the guilt and straightens up in the bed. He thinks it’s ridiculous Finn feels this way, but as someone who also tended to blame himself for what was out of his control, he does relate. Grabbing Finn’s hand with his non-casted one, Kurt grips it as tight as he can, though it’s clumsy, and shakes his head lightly. His brother looks at their hands, wiping away a few tears with the other. Kurt knows there are a few who have seen Finn Hudson this way-the list is short-and Kurt wants it to go away. 

“Finn,” he stresses. “Finn, this isn’t your fault. I ran into that alleyway because I had to. If anything, me being there helped save someone else.” Finn looks at him from the corners of his eyes, this time with no tears, and Kurt manages a smile as he squeezes Finn’s hand again. “The people who are at fault are the two homophobes who can’t seem to get with the times. They’re the reason I’m here. Not you.” They sit in silence for a few minutes, Finn calming himself, but he doesn’t cry. When he looks back at Kurt, fully this time, he’s got his trademark goofy grin on, even if it’s a little lopsided. 

“You’re pretty badass, Kurt.” Finn says. It’s Kurt’s turn to grin, even if it hurts his jaw, and he laughs. Finn isn’t much for dwelling on serious conversation, but Kurt doesn’t mind. He supposes that he’ll have a lot of more serious conversations soon. “I’m glad you’re okay, dude. Or…” he trails off, awkwardly, giving Kurt a glance over. “Sort-of okay.” 

“Ugh,” Kurt sighs, closing is eyes as he realizes he doesn’t even know his own injuries-and he must look like a disaster-and stares up at Finn. “What’s the damage?” He asks, eyeing his cast. 

“Uhh…your broken arm and concussion are the worst of it. You’ve got some stitches across your face, a black eye and a small fracture above your eye socket.” Finn lists. Frowning, Kurt glances up at the ceiling, trying to understand his own emotions. He still feels proud of what he’s done, guilty for making Finn (and obviously, everyone else) scared and upset, and while he hurts on the outside, he doesn’t on the inside. Kurt can’t figure out what emotion is missing. The old him-the one who transferred to Dalton-would have felt different. But he can’t figure out the reason why. Instead of dwelling on it, Kurt turns his head to affix Finn with another look. 

“So are you and Rachel still getting married? I don’t want those rings and her dress to go to waste…” He trails off, worry coating his face when Finn’s expression grows pained. “What’s wrong?” 

“It’s complicated. Rachel…kind of freaked when you weren’t at the courthouse when you said you’d be, then she found out I forgot the rings, and you weren’t answering your phone-” 

Finn’s explanation is interrupted when the door to his hospital room opens, the brothers quickly glancing to the entryway to see their parents. All worries about Rachel and her wedding slide right out of his head and Kurt feels his chest warm up as he observes his father’s facial expression change from a pained, angered one to a much softer, relieved one. Instantly, his dad is at his side, running a warm and calloused hand over his head, brushing his hair back. Tears fill his eyes-he never wanted to make his dad upset-and he gently hugs back with his good arm. 

“Kurt Elizabeth Hummel,” his dad begins, still holding his face in his hands, “Don’t ever scare me like that again.” Kurt manages another nod and hears Carole’s voice speaking to Finn. He can’t quite make out what she’s saying, but Kurt doesn’t want to focus on that. Right now, he just wants to be held by his dad. 

________ 

After an intense, tearful, but somehow praising scolding from his dad, an officer comes in and Kurt gives his statement and explanation of the events. (Which, thankfully, goes really quickly, since the boy he saved gave a lot of information to the police already.) His dad holds his non-casted hand the whole time as Carole rubs his back, while Finn heads out of the room quietly and with little notice. Soon after the officer leaves, Carole pokes her head out the door, and Kurt watches as she motions for someone to enter. 

Kurt can’t help but tear up when he sees his boyfriend, though he thinks is residual tears from having to give a very detailed statement, and watches as Blaine enters so quietly, so unlike his usual extroverted self. 

At first, he doesn’t say anything but a whispered ‘Kurt’ and stepping across the room to gently cradle his boyfriend’s face, kissing him softly and quickly, before taking the seat Finn had vacated to go get changed into normal clothes. He doesn’t let go of Kurt’s good hand after that, getting as close to the bed as possible without getting in it. Kurt doesn’t speak, he feels as though he might break out into tears, and lets Blaine soothe him. Much to his dad’s displeasure, Carole leads him out of the room to go get changed, giving the couple a moment alone. He figures his dad leaves because he knows no funny business is going to happen with Kurt trapped in a hospital bed, and that there is a conversation that can only happen between him and his boyfriend. 

When they’re finally alone, no brother or parents to listen in, Kurt allows himself to open up. 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he begins, avoiding Blaine’s eyes as he idly plays with his hand. He can feel Blaine’s gaze, the soft eyes he knows so well, and continues. “I know it wasn’t smart to do what I did, running into that alleyway like that, especially since I’m not much of a fighter.” He begins to tear up-like he thought he would-and his jaw wobbles as he goes on. “I know I should have called for help, that I should have done something else…” he doesn’t know how to explain it. The urge to do something, anything, to help someone else. He thinks of the teen, whose name he doesn’t even know, all alone in that alleyway, calling for help that he doesn’t know will come. He thinks of Blaine and his date, after that Sadie Hawkins dance. He thinks of all the LGBTQ+ teens in those alleyways, who needed help. He doesn’t know how to put it into words just yet, other than that he had to. 

But it’s Blaine who understands. 

“You did what you needed to do, Kurt,” Blaine tells him, filling in the blanks. He cups Kurt’s hand in both of his, bringing it to his heart. Kurt looks up at him, vision blurry with tears. “That kid needed someone, and you were there. It’s who you are, Kurt. You’re brave, you do what’s right.” Blaine is crying to, but he’s smiling as well, so Kurt manages a smile of his own. “You may have saved his life, Kurt. Who knows what those men would have done had you not stepped in.” Blaine leans down after he’s done, kissing Kurt gently on the forehead. “Never apologize for doing the right thing, Kurt. Even if it was completely dangerous and reckless.” 

The weight off his chest is gone after Blaine’s little speech of encouragement, Kurt feeling better after explaining his feelings to his boyfriend. Soon after, his dad peeks his head back into the room, nodding at Blaine. 

“You ready for some other visitors, kiddo?” His dad asks, stepping in just enough to keep the door open. “I think Mercedes and Tina have worn holes into the floor with their pacing.” Kurt’s brows-or brow, because of the stitches-furrows in confusion. He figured visiting hours were ending soon, that Blaine would have to leave. Blaine, ever the boyfriend who could read his mind, answers his unasked question easily. 

“Santana’s dad is a big surgeon here at the hospital, and Mike’s parents are on the legal staff. It was pretty easy to convince the nurses and doctors to expand the hours, as long as we were respectful. Plus,” Blaine adds, looking at Burt, “Your dad being a congressman is a bonus. As long as everyone visits in small groups, we can stay until 11pm.” Kurt nods. It does warm his heart a bit, to hear how his friends had stayed. He turns back to look at his dad, giving him another nod and gestures with his hand. 

“Yeah,” he says, with much more determination. “Send them in.” 

__________ 

Per the rules of the nurses, they visit in groups of three. He manages to convince Blaine to go freshen up, his boyfriend being led out of the room by Finn, as he’s still in his dress suit from the Finchel wedding. Sam had driven back to the house with Quinn to go grab the Hummel/Hudson family some clothes. (He also makes a mental note to thank Quinn later-she brought his oversized cardigan that’s easy to pull over his cast and his knit blanket from his bed) His dad and Carole are apparently talking to the doctor’s about Kurt’s medications and recovery plans, and discussing options with legal teams. According to them, he’ll have to spend at least one more night in the hospital, but he’ll be safe to go home Monday morning. 

Mercedes, Tina and Artie are first, 3/5ths of the OG glee club. Kurt smiles as the girls curl around him, both of them teary-eyed. Artie rolls up to what Kurt had dubbed his ‘good side’, the one without a broken arm and multiple stitches and bruises. He gets a good look at the four of them, that same feeling of guilt from earlier sinking in. The girl’s make-up is obviously smudged, and even Artie’s glasses look a bit foggy. He never wanted to make anyone upset. 

Artie speaks first, thankfully, breaking the silence of the room. 

“How do you feel dude?” He asks, giving Kurt a glance over. 

“Numb, I guess?” Kurt replies. “They’ve got me on some less intense painkillers right now. I think they’re gonna give me some more morphine later when it wears off so I can sleep. Not that I haven’t been knocked out at all.” He adds, huffing in a slight laugh. He realizes he’s said a bit too much when the room tenses, and the four share a glance over him. Mercedes tightens her grip on his hand, and he frowns. “Sorry. Maybe no jokes for now.” 

“Uh, how about no jokes at all, Kurt.” Mercedes eyes him. “You aren’t good at it.” Her chastising is half-hearted, but Kurt gives her hand a squeeze anyways. 

“Sorry I scared you,” he says as an apology. “Didn’t quite think of the consequences after running into the alleyway.” 

“Do you remember it at all?” Tina asks, sitting down on the edge of his bed, near his feet. Her eyes widen when Mercedes and Artie glance back over at her, trying to be subtle about the way their shaking their heads ‘no’, but Kurt shrugs. He doesn’t mind being honest. Its easier, anyways, to get out all the facts now with nothing to hold him back. 

“Sort of. I remember all the events leading up to it, I remember the other teen running away and getting a few hits in, but everything after that is blurry.” He still hasn’t seen his face, no mirrors at his disposal, so he’s only gone off of what Finn and Blaine have said about his injuries, as well as what he can feel. He isn’t looking forward to it. “I’m sure I’ll remember more in the next few days. Do any of you know what happened to the other teen? The guy in the alleyway?” 

“His name is Chandler,” Mercedes says, finally taking a seat. “He ran into the Lima Bean and got them to call for help, since they had broken his phone. Apparently all it took was one of the other customers-some big burly dude-who walked out and sent those men running. From what we heard, he had a few cuts and bruises, but nothing serious. You got there right as it started, he said.” 

“He was released hours ago, but he stayed around long enough to see if you were okay,” Artie adds on. “He kept apologizing to us, especially Blaine.” Kurt looks to him in confusion, wondering how the teen-Chandler-specifically knew Blaine. 

“I think he just knew Blaine was your boyfriend?” Tina guesses, rubbing at his leg gently. “Blaine was pretty upset, I mean, we all were, but Blaine especially. I think Chandler knew from the way Blaine was acting that you and him were together, so he just started apologizing frantically. His mom had to lead him away.” 

“It was really awkward.” Artie finishes, ending their popcorn-esc explanation. “To be honest, out of all the ways we thought the Finchel wedding would be stopped, I hadn’t put Kurt gets bashed on my list.” Tina and Mercedes reel at his statement, both exclaiming ‘Artie!’ but Kurt can’t help but grin. It makes him feel more normal for people to joke, rather than tiptoe. 

“Heh. I figured someone was going to declare their love for either of them. I had a bet going with Puck that Jesse St. James would find his way in, right when the minister asks, ‘does anyone object?” Kurt grins, the other three matching his expression. It does seem likely, with how wild all their lives are, that Jesse St. James would enter at the most dramatic moment-the dramatic, egg-throwing bastard. Rachel, however, is still on his mind. He thinks of Finn’s odd reaction to Kurt asking about the wedding. 

“Finn said Rachel freaked?” He asks, instantly noting the looks the three send each other. He straightens in the bed, rising off the pillows despite the pain. “Is she pissed I ruined her wedding?” A bit angry, Rachel could be selfish but he never considered her to be that selfish and self-centered to blame Kurt for her wedding being postponed or canceled. “Because if she is-” 

“Rachel went on a rant when you weren’t at the courthouse when you said you’d be.” Mercedes interrupts, gently pushing him back into the pillows. It’s the same explanation Finn had tried to give before being interrupted, so Kurt knows she’s telling the truth. “She said you were purposefully trying to stop the wedding for attention, that you were mad you didn’t get a solo, or the student government thing, or the whole West Side Story thing. She accused Quinn of being ‘in on it’ since you both were against them getting married.” 

“If it helps,” Tina adds, “She was already pretty stressed since Sam told her the reason why you were gone, that everyone was keeping the fact Finn forgot the rings from her. When you hadn’t arrived when you said you would, she got more and more upset. She didn’t go 0-100, is what I mean.” 

“Still doesn’t mean that Kurt and Quinn don’t deserve a huge apology for what she said, even if Kurt wasn’t there to hear it.” Mercedes glances back to him, making sure he knows she means it. “When your dad got the call about what had happened, she broke down. I think the stress and guilt got to her. Her dads had to take her home.” She finishes, frowning down at him. It makes sense, now, why Finn was so awkward about his questioning, and why Rachel hadn’t been one of the first to visit. 

“I think Finn called her to update her on your condition, but that’s about it,” Artie shrugs. “As for everyone else, we’ve been hanging in a conference room on this floor. Has better coffee than the courtroom, I’ll tell you that much.” 

“So who’s all here?” Kurt asks. 

“Everyone besides Rachel, obviously, Sugar and Rory. Mr. Schue and Coach Sylvester stayed long enough to know you were okay and that we all called our parents to tell them where we were. Sugar took Rory to go gift shopping for you.” Artie says, annoyed. “So be prepared for some very large, very vibrant, very expensive stuffed animals. She sent Brittany a few pictures, and according to her, one is a life-size rainbow dolphin.” Artie is grinning, as are Tina and Mercedes. Kurt finds a bit of humor in it, knowing she’s well meaning, but dear god, if it’s true, then he’ll ever hear the end of it. He doesn’t know where he’d put a stuffed animal like that. Anyways, Kurt is grateful for the break from wedding discussion (he’s not going to focus on Rachel’s problems right now) and before anyone can add on, Santana pokes her head in, ending their quips. 

“Alright, times up,” she says, sauntering in. “We’ve only got so much time before they call security and get us all kicked out.” She’s still in her bridesmaids dress, like the other girls, but her hair is in her classic pony. “Plus, Brittany is bugging the nurses with her questions and I can feel our time with the resident super boy dwindling, and I know Anderson is gonna want time with his boy before he’s kicked out for the night.” 

The trio, obviously upset about their time ending so soon, frown as they leave, Tina and Mercedes kissing his forehead and Artie patting at his good shoulder before exiting, promising a visit the next day as Brittany and Quinn take their places just as quickly. Instantly, Brittany is at his side, humming at him and caressing his face as gently as she can. It’s a bit much though, and he’s grateful for Quinn. The other blonde cheerleader is much slower and much gentler, kisses his head gently and takes the spot Mercedes vacated, as Santana grabs another chair and pulls it up to his bedside. 

“Britt,” she says, pulling her girlfriend into her lap. “Be gentle.” She nods at Kurt, who is grateful for the freedom. “You look like shit, Hummel.” 

“Santana!” Quinn reels back, glaring at the other girl. “What is wrong with you?” Even Brittany is glaring at her girlfriend, waving her finger at her in disappointment. Santana just shrugs, but she does look a bit shamed, and juts her chin up at him in apology. 

“Its fine,” Kurt says. “I know I do. Well, I haven’t exactly seen myself, but I know I don’t look pretty. I can feel it.” He rubs at Quinn’s hand to comfort himself. “Thanks for the clothes, by the way,” he adds, looking up at Quinn gratefully. “I am not looking forward to the next few weeks of clothes that are just easy to put on. It’s going to be the worst fashion experience of my life.” 

“More than the time you acted straight for a week?” Santana asks, grinning. Kurt rolls his eyes at her. 

“Fine. Second worst fashion experience of my life.” 

“What about the Dalton uniforms? You always looked like a sad, sad boy in them.” Brittany asks, innocently. “I liked it when you were not capital-g gay for a week. Best boy kisses I’ve ever had. Artie was good too, but you were better.” It’s quiet for awhile after that, Kurt contemplating all of what Brittany has just dropped on him. Quinn busies herself with adjusting his blankets, as Brittany leans over to look at his cast, sharpie in hand. Kurt, resigned to his fate, gives her access to his cast, not wanting to dwell on his sophomore or junior years. As she begins to write her name in bubble letters, getting out of Santana’s lap to do so, the other cheerleader leans forward to observe him more seriously. 

“I do have to ask though, Kurt,” Santana says, giving him a more serious look. “Why did you do it?” 

“I just had to,” Kurt says, in all seriousness. As he talks to his family and friends, it gets easier to admit to that truth. He ran into that alleyway because he had to. Santana nods like she understands, but Quinn frowns, pulling his cardigan closed. 

“Kurt…” Quinn trails off. “They could have killed you.” At that, Brittany and Santana both freeze, Brittany stopping her coloring-in of her bubble name on the cast. Kurt frowns up at Quinn, finding the words to explain himself more. Blaine had understood, Finn had sort-of understood, and after his dad had finished cry-yelling at him, had understood. 

“They could have killed Chandler too,” he tries. “I couldn’t just stand there waiting for the police to come while they beat him. I had to step in.” Quinn shakes her head at him, but she seems to let it go as she goes back to adjusting his clothes and blankets. He lets her fret over him, knowing it’s her way of caring. 

“I have to admit, Kurt,” Santana leans into his space, patting at his less injured cheek. “It was pretty impressive to hear what you did. From what I managed to overhear from the cops, you managed a few good licks in to those two douchebags.” She grins at him, then to his surprise, kisses his good cheek and then standing up straight and pulling Brittany with her. “It’s the guys’ shift next. Get some good sleep, Hummel. We’ll hang when you get out.” Quinn does the same, softly brushing his hair off his forehead and following the pair out the door. 

She holds it open for Sam, Puck and Mike to enter, the three boys in similar states of undress, ties undone, wrinkled white shirts, missing jackets. Unlike the girls, they’re much less gentle and hesitant, though not unkindly. It’s also more comforting, in a way. They aren’t subtle when they get a good look at his face-even with Santana telling him he looked like shit. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey dude,” Puck takes the seat on his good side, Sam taking Santana’s spot while Mike takes Quinn’s. “You feel alright?” 

“Mostly. Not looking forward to what I’ll feel like without the pain killers, though.” 

“You do look a little rough, Kurt.” Mike eyes his cast, Brittany’s bubble lettering taking up a lot of space. “But from what Santana told us from listening in on the police, you broke both those guy’s noses and even knocked out a few teeth on one of them.” Kurt smiles. He’s not a violent person, not even close, but knowing that ‘gentle, non-violent Kurt’ managed to bruise and injure two men much bigger than him does make him a bit happier. Plus, the guys look impressed, and hell, it feels good to see that look. 

“Good. So they caught them?” Kurt asks. “No one’s told me anything about it. Well, not that I’ve asked, I did just wake up like two hours ago.” 

“Yeah.” Sam nods. “They turned themselves in, apparently. Santana thinks it’s because they found out you were the son of a congressman. Didn’t want to deal with any major legal trouble. Or, more than they would have, with assaulting a minor and all.” 

“Yeah, attacking a teen in the alleyway with a brick is usually frowned upon in the law.” Kurt snorts, frowning when the three guys shared a wide-eyed look. It seems as though he was keeping his track record of saying things and getting odd reactions. Curious, he straightens up to look at them better. “What?” 

“They had a brick?” Puck asks, outraged. Sam and Mike look equally furious, Kurt realizing no one would have known that bit of information. “Those cowards. Couldn’t even just use their fists.” 

“Uh, Puck?” Mike and Sam eye him warily, the latter of which speaking up. “Or, you know, they’re cowards for attacking anyone at all. Not just because they used a brick.” 

“You know what I meant.” Puck glances down at Kurt and gives him a rare smile to show he means no harm. “Anyways, dude, you’re a badass. That Chandler kid was really grateful for you, so was his mom.” 

“Yeah man,” Sam beams. “It was pretty awesome to hear about what you did. I mean, it was scary to hear you were attacked, but it was cool to learn how you saved someone.” 

“Thanks,” Kurt says, smiling. It’s nice to hear how the guys think of his actions-no weird guilt feeling like he had with the girls. It’s similar to the feeling he had with his dad and Blaine, the understanding of his actions, and no ‘why did you do it?’ questioning him, making him confused. “I’m glad he’s okay.” Smiling, he leans back into his pillows, relaxed. Another glance to Puck gets him thinking again, and his smile turns into a smirk. 

“I guess out bet is off then, huh?” He asks, Puck grinning when he realizes what Kurt is referring to. “No wedding for Jesse St. James to crash.” 

“Yeah man. I was totally waiting for that dude to arrive. I wanted to play bouncer.” 

“Did you two really have a bet on if Jesse St. James would show up?” Mike asked, a hint of amusement in his voice. 

“Yep.” Kurt yawns. “I said he’d show up right when the justice of the peace asks if anyone objects, Puck said he’d step in at the reception, singing some ballad to try and win Rachel back.” 

“I knew that guy for like a week,” Sam says, standing, the other two moving to do the same, “but both of those seem like things he would do. Anyways,” he leaned, holding out his fist for Kurt to bump, before quickly taking it back when he sees the cast, “We’re glad you’re okay, dude. We’re gonna come see you when you get back to your house.” 

“Yeah man,” Puck says, patting at Kurt’s shoulder. “We’re gonna do a rotation of movies while we keep you company. Your boy planned it all out. Schedule and all.” 

“I’m bringing Footloose!” Mike adds, brightly. “I have the extended cut with directors commentary.” 

“Bye Kurt! Text me if you want anything else from your house.” Sam calls, holding the door open for Blaine to reenter, patting the shorter boy on the shoulder as he walks out. Kurt smiles, nodding at the three boys as they leave, hearing Mike explain the history of Footloose as the door closes. 

“Your dad and Carole are talking with an officer right now,” Blaine starts, moving to sit next to him. “They’ll be back to say goodnight in a few minutes.” He grabs at Kurt’s good hand, bringing it up to kiss the small bruises that litter his knuckles. “From what Carole told me, the two men are probably going to plead guilty, so you may not have to worry about a trial.” 

“That’s good,” Kurt says through a yawn. He leans back into the bed, head resting on the edges of the pillow, and smiles gratefully at Blaine when he grabs at the bed’s remote to recline it for him. “I’m glad the Chandler kid is okay,” he closes his eyes, not resisting the urge to sleep. “Makes me glad I didn’t run into that alleyway for nothing, ya’ know?” Eyes too heavy, he feels Blaine’s hand rest against his cheek, and sleepily smiles in reaction when a gentle kiss is placed on his cheek. 

“Mmhmm.” He feels Blaine pull the blankets up to his shoulders, feeling warm and weighted but happy. “Get some rest, K,” he hears Blaine whisper, and nods gently, blinking his eyes awake just enough to meet his boyfriend’s. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.” 

Kurt thinks he manages a small ‘love you too’ before exhaustion overtakes him.


	2. Bruised, but Not Broken. (Yet)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duets are back just in time for Kurt's return!
> 
> note: the last section has Kurt dreaming about what happened. It isn't very descriptive, but there's the warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter!  
>  There's some talk about John Lennon-its one line and very brief, but it's there.  
> note: the last section has Kurt dreaming about what happened. It isn't very descriptive, but there's the warning.

Blaine loves so many things about Kurt, like how even his laughter is musical, or how his eyes seemingly change color every other minute, how he zigs when you think he is going to zag, and every other thing that makes up the man that is Kurt Hummel. Yet the one thing, above all else, that Blaine not only loves but is so strikingly impressed by, is Kurt’s _resilience._ Blaine has never met a person who walks though metaphorical (or literal, if you consider the hallways of McKinley high) battlefields with his head held high, despite how scary or painful it would be. He’s never met a person who pulls himself back up every time he falls, brushing the dust off his knees and walking on, as if he’d never fallen.

Blaine loves superheroes, has always wanted to be one, and now he’s lucky enough to be in love with one. Sure, Kurt may not look like his childhood comic book characters (plus, Kurt would never wear neon spandex again, that one time being a very appreciated birthday gift for Blaine’s benefit was enough for the countertenor) but he certainly acts like one. Was he terrified to hear about Kurt’s actions? Yes, but he was also proud. Kurt’s morals and compassion were what drew Blaine to Kurt and knowing that Kurt would risk himself to save someone he didn’t even know made Blaine love Kurt even more than he thought possible.

(Though he would never forget that day for the rest of his life.)

_The look on Kurt’s father’s face as he explained what had happened. The sudden rush to the hospital, him and Finn being shoved into Puck’s car, shell-shocked and pale. Waiting in the conference room after Santana had (not gently) told a nurse who her father was, and that the twelve non-family members would not be leaving until they saw their friend. Anger (though he didn’t want to feel it) as the Chandler boy entered their conference room, blubbering apologies, distressing him to the point of internal pain. Relief from knowing Kurt was going to be just fine, that all of his injuries would heal. Trying to hold himself together as he watched Kurt’s bruised sleeping face from the room window as Finn settled beside his stepbrother. Speaking to Kurt, trying to explain how terrified but proud he was of his boyfriend, and hearing how his (stupidly brave) boyfriend also felt proud of himself._

(Blaine remembers how it feels, to be beaten, the fear that can come at some points, when you least expect it.)

So, he’s not surprised in the slightest to see Kurt enter Glee club the Monday morning he’s allowed to go back to school, even though he, Burt and Finn had told the teen he could take another day or two to rest. Kurt’s impossibly stubborn, a trait of which Blaine has come to learn how to counteract, so the former Warbler lead just smiles, kissing his boyfriend on the cheek and putting an arm around his shoulder gently, careful of the bruises and cuts he knows are under the scarf. There’s no one else in there, Blaine is always the first one, so Finn and Sam must still be putting things away. Kurt always prefers to go to Glee first, since his locker is right next to his first class.

“Morning, Kurt,” Blaine greets, grinning when Kurt goes a little pink at the PDA, even if there’s no public to actually see. His stitches look better, and his bruised eye is in the gross, yellow-green stage, but it’s still cute to see the healthy, pink flush on his cheeks, even with the healing cuts. “Thought you were coming in on Wednesday, not today.”

“Got bored,” Kurt explains, settling his messenger bag under his chair. “You can only watch so many reruns of M.A.S.H or Greys Anatomy until you go insane. My dreams are practically set to the theme song now. Even though the nightly movie nights were fun, there was literally nothing to do during the day.” Blaine can relate. Being bedridden because you can only see out of one eye (even if it was temporary) can get boring, quick.

“Understandable,” Blaine says. “I figured you would have watched your extensive collection of musicals. Don’t you have the deluxe edition of _Chicago_? Or _Moulin Rouge!?_ ”

“You know I can’t watch those without crying, B,” Kurt smiles, then rests his casted hand on his thigh just as the rest of the group filters in smiling up and answering their greetings in return. Mercedes takes the spot beside him, hugging his side gently and slightly ruffling his hair. “I knew I needed to get out when I was considering watching- hey, Cedes.”

“Hi Kurt, hi Blaine,” she greets, then eyes Blaine inquisitively over his head, her eyes darting from him to the top of Kurt’s head, as if to say, _what the hell?_ Blaine shrugs, quickly mouthing _‘he’s stubborn’_ at her, and goes back to gently rubbing his finger’s over Kurt’s cast. All their names litter the cast, written in their own styles (Brittany had taken the most room with her giant bubble lettering, and Puck had written his name on the part closest to Kurt’s knuckles, stating it was like a tattoo.) He listens in on Mercedes and Kurt’s conversation, not annoyed he was interrupted. Mercedes continued on, draping her jacket over her chair and taking a sip at her coffee. “Weren’t you supposed to be here on _Wednesday_ , not today?”

“Yeah little dude,” Puck, who had somehow snuck in at some point with no one noticing, from behind Kurt, “You had the opportunity for some time off without having to make up any schoolwork, since Coach Sylvester put the fear of _herself_ into any teacher of yours who tried.” Blaine watches as Kurt peers back him, eyebrow raised (Blaine can still see the scar across his eyebrow) and shrugs.

“I was going stir-crazy. Like I was going to say, I was considering watching my dad’s recordings of old football games.” Kurt rolls his eyes at their reactions (Blaine gives his own exaggerated gasp to tease) but he’s smiling, so Blaine knows Kurt isn’t actually offended. “Anyways, the doctor said I’d be good to return today, so I did. Honestly, the worst part is just getting dressed. At least it’s cold enough to still wear sweaters or cardigans, because I have no idea how I’d get any button shirts on with this cast.”

“I’m sure your boy could help you with that,” Puck laughed, Kurt and Blaine turning back to glare at him as Mercedes stifled a laugh. They continued into casual conversation as the rest of the group slowly filed in, each giving their surprised greetings to Kurt. Quinn takes the seat behind Blaine, making sure to greet Kurt with a cheek kiss as usual, taking the spot beside Puck and joining in on his and Blaine’s debate about Annie with Mercedes and Tina. Rachel is the last to arrive, Finn’s arm around hers which Blaine knows is unusual (the coming in last part) but she’d been more subdued since her cut-off wedding and Kurt’s bashing. She seems a bit more animated, but when she catches Kurt’s gaze, she freezes, eyes wide, and takes the seat furthest from him.

Quinn takes that time to lean down between Kurt’s and Blaine’s heads, Blaine eying her as she whispers into Kurt’s ear.

“Did Rachel ever come see you at the hospital? Or your house?” She asks, and Blaine blanks. He completely forgot about Rachel’s rant, though he had a fair reason to, but it is understandable. He also hadn’t been there for the rant, but like anything that happened in their group, it never stayed secret for long. He peers past Kurt, watching as Rachel busies herself with sheet music, gesturing at the band.

“No. She sent flowers, though? I didn’t read the card that came with them. Concussion and pain killers made it hard to pay attention to small print for a few days.” Kurt replies, shrugging his shoulders. “I still don’t know exactly what she said about me,” he states, then eyes Quinn with a frown, “or you,” he adds. “All I know was that it was very accusatory. It doesn’t matter though.”

Blaine scrunches his eyebrows together, sharing a look with Quinn. “Why?” He knew Kurt was very forgiving, he loved his boyfriend for his kind heart, but even Blaine could hold a grudge, and he was usually a very sunshine type of person. Even he couldn’t resist the urge to hold this over Rachel for a bit.

“Because,” Kurt looks back at Rachel, then to the pair. “I don’t really have the energy to hold a grudge or hate someone right now. It’s useless.”

“Plus you’re incapable of holding a grudge longer than a week,” Tina adds, picking at her nails casually. When Blaine, Kurt and Quinn turned to her, a bit accusatory, she shrugs, holding her hands up in defense. “Sorry Kurt. But we all know you can’t really hold a grudge.” Blaine snorted, throwing a goofy, apologetic look at Kurt’s half-hearted glare. Thankfully, Kurt didn’t seem angry at all, but he still threw a gentle arm around his shoulders. Kurt needed the touch, anyways.

\----

“Alright guys,” Mr. Schue stepped in, his usual happy demeanor and pace, dropping his brief case on the piano with a not-so-gentle slam. “Let’s get started-oh,” he smiled, a little caught off guard when he saw Kurt, “Kurt! Welcome back!” He smiled brightly, before stepping forward to speak to him. Kurt was glad that Mr. Schue hadn’t quite gotten everyone’s attention. “You alright to be here?” He whispered, as his friends around him pretended to not listen in.

“I’m all good. My doctors just told me to take it easy.” Kurt smiled. “Thanks, Mr. Schue.”

“Great,” he smiled back. “Blaine did tell us not to do a big performance, so you don’t have to be worried about any surprises.” He gave Kurt a thumbs up, before moving back to the front of the classroom, clapping to regain everyone’s attention. Kurt lost himself for a bit-he was glad that no one had planned anything-but there was still this deep feeling in his chest he couldn’t get rid of. Despite the feeling in his chest, he couldn’t help but groan along with everyone else as he brought out the hat; and turned around the white board to reveal “Duets!” Written in all caps.

“I’m burning that hat,” Santana muttered, getting a few chuckles. Mr. Schue made a face at her, before waving the comment away.

“This time is different, guys. I am combining the rules from our last duets assignments. You will be picking your partner out of a hat-and no, you cannot switch-and instead of you all voting for the winner, I have pulled Ms. Pillsbury, Coach Beiste, and-“he sighed, “Coach Sylvester, who has planned to join us in our efforts to Nationals, is also joining the judges.” Even he couldn’t hold back an eye roll. “To avoid ties, I won’t be joining the panel.”

Kurt watched; eyebrow raised-the last two duets competitions didn’t go so well for him-as Mr. Schue wrote on the board.

“I only have a few rules. You can’t switch partners, you have to give me your song choice by the end of today, and you can’t use resources others can’t use-“he eyed Santana and Brittany. “Like the cheerios.” He held up the hat, waving it at everyone. “Alright guys, lets go!” He said, cheerily. “We’re going by birthdays!” Kurt rolled his eyes; he had one of the last birthdays of everyone (damn being the youngest) and shrunk into his seat. This was going to go wrong; he just knew it.

Finn and Rachel, by some sort of dumb luck, had gotten each other. Mercedes and Blaine were paired (Kurt was happy about the pairing, his boyfriend and best friend together) second. Then followed Puck and Tina, Sam and Santana, Joe and Brittany, Mike and Sugar (the poor teen had grown wide-eyed when Sugar had squealed and thrown her arms around him) and adding to the tension, Artie and Rory paired off. That had left Kurt and Quinn, the former of whom smiled at him brightly and kissed his cheek when they paired.

“Ten dollars Rachel convinces Finn to do an apology ballad for you two,” Mercedes whispered in his ear. “She was going to ask me, I could tell, but she stopped.” Kurt snorted, but even as Quinn took his bag, leading him away to their first class, with Mike in tow, Kurt couldn’t get rid of the feeling in his chest.

-

“If we really want to win,” Quinn said, grabbing his hand as they sat at the piano on stage, using their free period to plan, “we need to tap into their emotions. We both know that we are the best at emotionally expressing ourselves through songs.”

Kurt hummed in agreement. “What did you have in mind?”

Quinn tapped aimlessly at the keys. “We need to do a classic. You and I are very good at tapping into the emotion behind those songs.” She studied his face, then broke out into a wide smile. “What about The Beatles? Your rendition of I Want to Hold Your Hand is one of the best solos any of us have done, and according to Mercedes, you got a boyfriend from Blackbird.” Quinn sang teasingly, gently nudging his good shoulder with her own. Kurt’s ears pinked at the mention of his memorial song to his bird; it had taken a lot of Mercedes’ prompting from him to get him to tell her how he and Blaine had finally gotten together.

He had considered her for a moment; Beatles songs did tend to be emotional for him, by some odd coincidence. However, his urge to win won over any feelings of apprehension from getting personal. Kurt grinned back at her. “Sounds good to me. I’m not really up for any big performances like last time,” he waved his casted arm, grinning.

Quinn shook her head. “When half of the club is going to do some sort of top-40 hit or rock song. If we’re going to sing the Beatles, then we got to go more emotional. A sad ballad, maybe?” Quinn offered. “Or something else prior to the early 2000’s?”

Kurt raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m currently two for two for crying while singing a Beatles song. I’d rather not make it three for three. My med’s have made me more emotional than usual.”

“Hmm.” Quinn hummed. She began scrolling through her phone as Kurt idly tapped the keys of the piano. “We can always change it up, like how you did for I Want to Hold Your Hand. When I listened to it later I didn’t realize it was completely different from the original.” He smiled at her, before realizing it might not have been a compliment and frowning, but Quinn seemed to have realized and reached out to grab his hand. “I really loved it. Everyone did,” she reassured him. “Artie even recorded it after the first few lines, and has it saved to his computer.”

“Oh.” Kurt’s ears pinked-oh how he hated how easy it was to see how embarrassed he could get-and awkwardly patted her hand back. He’d also have to ask Artie about the recording later. “Since you did mention changing the format, then why don’t we, with no matter who we pick, take the song and put a spin on it? Especially since we maybe want to avoid the topic of John Lennon.”

“Yeah, physical abuse, murder threats and assassinations don’t really apply to us,” Quinn began, as Kurt grew a bit pale, both realizing what they had both unintentionally implied. Her eyes grew wide, and she was quick to draw him close. “I’m sorry, Kurt. I didn’t mean it like that.” Kurt knew she didn’t-it had truly been an accident-even he forgot about Dave’s death threat sometimes, especially recently.

“I know,” he consoled her. “I don’t really think about it often. Sometimes I forget it even happened. I was thinking more in line about the fact for most, if not all, of high school, the students have had their eyes on us. Their opinions about us. Their hateful comments and while we both are kind of guilty of maybe not being the nicest at times-”

Quinn snorted, relaxing and gesturing for him to continue.

“-We have still managed to rise above it and show them that their hate doesn’t matter. That we have stood tall again and again.” He smiled at her, Quinn’s eyes sparkling even brighter. “Wait,” he stopped, suddenly, eyes growing wide with delight. “What if we don’t do a Beatles song?’ he typed his idea into his phone, then grinned when the lyrics proved his idea right. “They will probably guess that’s what we’re going to do. What if we add a bit of _growl_ to our voices,” he showed her the result. She smiled, but her eyes were still confused.

“But we just planned a whole thing,” Quinn said. “I mean, I feel like we both can do The Beatles really well. Not that we can’t do them, but I feel like we both want to win.”

“But that’s just it-” Kurt said, a bit excited. “This song-even though it isn’t a Beatles song, has so much power. I feel like it really represents our struggles. What we’ve been through. Plus everyone can easily figure that’s what we’re doing. If we do this-we’ll take them by surprise. Plus, with the ages of the judges-” Quin snort-laughed, Kurt grinning as he finished his explanation. “We’ll rock them with some classic rock.”

Quinn was silent for a few moments, before sharing a smile with him.

“Perfect.”

Before the more comfortable silence could set in, Kurt had to get something off his chest.

“Quinn,” he said, low, startling her a bit when he broke the quiet. “I’m sorry for what I said last week.” She quirked an eyebrow up him, confused, but he continued on. “I shouldn’t have implied things were easier for you just because you had friends Sophomore year. That was wrong of me. I shouldn’t have trivialized what happened to you, just because I was upset. I only knew…I only knew bits and pieces. I shouldn’t have judged you so harshly.”

“It’s alright.” Quinn gave him a small, upturned smile, and gently brushed his bangs away. “I shouldn’t have said those things about suicide anyways. To call it selfish-or easy or whatever I said-It was wrong of me too. I can’t- I can’t imagine what his da must have felt, seeing him like that.” She then fixed him with a more serious look, then eyed his cast. “You know you scared us, right?” Quinn said, a bit sad. Frowning, Kurt crossed his arms and nodded. He did know, he just-he just hadn’t been thinking of the consequences. “You scared us all pretty bad. We knew that you were in the hospital because someone hurt you, but the fact you ran in on your own-it scared us, Kurt,” she stressed.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt whispered back. “I just had to do it.”

“I know,” Quinn smiled. “I know, we know. It’s who you are. The bravery. Only Kurt Hummel would find a way to stop a disaster wedding by saving a life.” She wrapped her arm around him, gently rubbing the skin on his shoulder. “Just…just make sure someone is with you next time you decide to play superhero? I think Puck was ready to go hunt down those monsters had they not turned themselves in. Mr. Schue had to block the door when we found out one of them was in the ER getting his broken nose checked out.” Her eyes sparked a bit, tapping his nose gently. “You also made us proud, don’t forget it. Now,” she said, with a firm voice, brushing her skirt down, “Let’s plan.”

.

They fell into a calm lull, typing on their phones quietly and occasionally sharing a link, heads together and tapping at random piano keys. The calm quiet was broken, though, when the familiar sound of rubber on polished wooden floor brought them out of their planning.

“Q! Porcelain!” Sue called, stepping out of one of the wings of the stage, her usual smirk plastered on her face. “I hope the both of you have already decided on a song like the rest of the extraordinarily horny teens in your club.” Sue stepped closer, crossing to stand a few feet away from the piano bench.

Quinn rolled her eyes at the coach, standing up from the piano bench and crossing her arms. “We have, Coach.” She gently pulled Kurt to stand with her, grabbing both of their bags and moving to stand closer. “So cut to the chase. Why are you here with us?”

Sue scoffed, giving them an odd smile. “It’s no secret that sweet, sweet Porcelain here is a favorite of mine.” Kurt wrinkled his nose-he didn’t want to know what being Sue Sylvester’s favorite entailed-and watched as Sue pulled out a small note pad from her jacket pocket. “And I have the upmost respect for you as well Q, However, with the lack of Cheerios practice to keep you in shape,” she nodded at Quinn, “And with Porcelain’s recent heroism rendering unable to perform at his usual level, I am offering my help.” She shook the notebook in her hand, “I have the list of all the songs your competition is doing.”

“We don’t want it,” Quinn told her, placing her hand on Kurt’s back. Kurt nodded in agreement. “Kurt and I will win fair and square. _Without_ your influence.”

“We can pretty much guess what everyone is going to do anyways,” Kurt added. “No one in this group can keep a secret. I’m pretty sure all I have to do is just mention the competition at dinner and Finn will tell me everything.”

“Meanwhile Kurt and I won’t say a word.” Quinn told her, stepping away to walk herself and Kurt down the steps. “Thanks anyways, coach. Have fun telling the rest of the glee club everyone’s songs but ours.” With that, she led Kurt, bemused, down the steps, walking the pair of them out of the auditorium. Sue, left behind, frowned deeply. She’d just look at Schuster’s list later anyways. At least then she’d know what the Kuinn pairing would be doing.

\----

_Everything was blurry._

_Kurt looked up, staring at the sky. It was all greys and blues; the kinds of clouds that had no shape besides looking like stretched out cotton._

_He was laying down, his head in someone’s lap. He didn’t know what happened._

_Wasn’t he supposed to be somewhere?_

_There was too many smells. Coffee and cream, rust and car fumes. Where was he?_

_A big hand was on his chest-it belonged to the lap his head was resting on._ _He focused on the hand. It was big and calloused. Tan, but there was a pale line around a finger, where a ring should be._

_A ring!_

_He was supposed to be at the courthouse. Finn and Rachel. Finchel._

_He focused more. Sounds came soon, despite the ringing._

_“Kurt-hey kid-Kurt-” Who was it? It sounded familiar. Focus Kurt, focus. “Listen Kurt, I called-I called the police and paramedics. They’re coming, Kid.” Who are you? Who is this? “Listen-stay awake for your dad, kid. Got it? Okay?”_

_Okay._

_Stay awake._

_He blinks; he’s staring up at stark white ceiling, and being more aware has brought him pain with the knowledge._

_“-IDed on sight as Kurt Hummel by witness.” One paramedic was saying, Kurt saw out of the corner of his eyes. There was a mask strapped to his head, feeding him oxygen._

_“Was the witness able to give any medical information”_

_“No, according to initial responders on site it was a father of a former classmates.”_

_Kurt groaned-the man knew him? Who was he?_

_“Hey-hey Kurt,” the voices were back, much warmer. “We’re taking you to the hospital, honey. We called your dad. He’s on his way, okay?” Kurt blinked, and suddenly he wasn’t in the ambulance anymore._

_He was alone, lying on the damp concrete._

_“Kurt-can you tell us-”_

_No-he was running, dropping the coffees-oh no, Finn, Blaine-they were going to be mad._

_“-do you have any medical allergies? Any negative responses to pain killers?”_

_He had the ring; they were getting married-oh it was so stupid-_

_“No,” he hissed. Kurt, concentrate. “I can take any painkillers. Please-”_

_He was lying in the mans lap-the father of a former classmate?_

_“Okay, honey, we’re going to give you a bit of medicine. You’ll feel a little pinch-don’t worry, we're almost there-”_

Kurt gasped as he woke up, sweaty and heart pounding.

He hadn’t dreamed since that day. The meds he took usually lulled him into a deep sleep. His memories-they weren’t all there. It wasn’t amnesia-they’d ruled that out. Doctors had told him it was just the adrenaline; that not thinking about his actions hadn’t given him a chance to really remember them. They said it was like he had been watching a show while half-asleep.

Kurt wished it were true.


	3. Being Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you asked Kurt, he'd say he's fine. If you asked Mercedes or Finn? They'd think the opposite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't love this chapter but it's needed. Next one is really where it gets going.

Finn hadn’t been able to shake the guilty feeling from his chest since the moment they had found out Kurt had been bashed. It wasn’t constantly there; he’d forget about it, he’d feel fine and normal, but then there would be moments that brought that sinking feeling. He’d watch Kurt take one of his pain meds, or struggle to put on a shirt with the cast. Finn would try not to stare at Kurt’s lessening bruises or watch as his mom carefully checked the stitches that still lingered on Kurt’s face. It certainly didn’t help that Kurt was acting like everything was fine; that he wasn’t beaten in an alleyway by homophobes with a brick. Even worse, Kurt had _chosen_ to go in that alleyway, so in addition to feeling guilty about Kurt being in that situation in the first place, it made Finn feel even guiltier about his inaction the previous years when confronted with Kurt’s bullying.

Hell, he couldn’t even just confront Karofsky about Kurt’s bullying without worrying about his popularity, and Kurt ran into an alleyway without a second thought to save a teen he didn’t even know.

It made him feel weak, the comparison.

Pride wouldn’t get him this time. Finn would be prideful, yes, but proud of his brother for being a hero.

So from that moment on, he vowed to do even better. He remembered each stitch on Kurt’s face (10 exactly) and every bruise he could count (23 in total, at least the ones he could see.) Finn knew exactly when Kurt took pain meds (eight-thirty am, at breakfast) and half a pill at four pm, if he needed it. Brothers-big brothers, which is what Finn was, a big brother-needed to know those things. Thankfully, he was already ahead of the game; he had gotten really good at understanding Kurt’s emotions from little tics, from little changes in facial expressions, in body language. Finn knew when Kurt was just joking about pain and when he was trying to hide it. When he needed actually needed space, and when he was saying he needed space but actually wanted touch.

So Finn knew something was up when he had finished getting ready and had headed down to grab some breakfast before school. Sam was already at the table, shoving spoonful’s of cereal into his mouth as he looked over his homework, as Kurt nibbled on a few pieces of toast. It was just them three in the house for the next three days; his mom and Burt were in DC, finally able to after Kurt had gotten the okay. Burt, a legal team and with the help of Mike’s dad had kept the media from grabbing onto the story. Kurt had remained anonymous, and it would be his choice if he wanted to go public with his story.

But Finn knew that Burt being gone wasn’t an issue.

He could tell something was wrong with Kurt, from all the little subtle things; the way his shoulders were slumped and his eyes a bit dark, and not from the healing bruises. Kurt also wasn’t dressed in his usual (well, unusual, for Finn) style, from what he could tell. Just a plain sweater and jeans, and pull-on short boots. Finn supposed it could be from just the complications from the cast, but Kurt had managed yesterday to pull on a complicated looking sweater-jacket combo. The last time he saw Kurt looking so odd in clothes was when he was trying to be straight.

“We ready to go?” Finn asked, shoving a piece of toast in his mouth as he slung his bag over his shoulder. Sam nodded as he finished one last spoonful, quickly getting up to go to the kitchen and clean. Kurt didn’t seem to hear him, eyes still downcast as he nibbled on the crust of his toast. Finn frowned; this wasn’t like Kurt. Something was wrong. “Kurt, bro?” He gently rapped his knuckles on the table, jolting Kurt out his daydreaming. “You okay?” He eyes the pain med bottle on the table. Maybe Kurt had forgotten? “Did you take your meds?”

“Uhh…” Kurt eyed the bottle and nodded. “Yeah, I did.” He stood, slowly, and Finn hated seeing the flinch of pain that quickly flashed in his eyes. “I think they’re just slow to work today. Had an uncomfortable night last night,” Kurt admitted. Finn hated how he wanted to cheer inside; it took a lot of trust to get Kurt to admit something so openly. It was a terribly gratifying feeling; to be that person who someone could trust with their sad moments, their truths, especially when those people were so little in number. “I’m okay,” Kurt reassured him before Finn could press on more.

“Alright.” He smiled at Kurt, a real one. He knew when to and when not to press. He’d just keep an eye out on Kurt. “Lets go. I’m sure Sam is eager to get to glee,” Finn joked as Sam reentered the entryway. Sam rolled his eyes at him, shouldering his guitar and backpack.

“Santana will drive me nuts by the end of this,” Sam said. “We only agreed on a song neither of us really loved because we have such different musical choices.” Finn held the door open for the pair as they made their way to his truck. “We all know the real competition is you two and your partners.” Sam said with a deadpan tone. Finn snorted as he jumped into the driver’s seat, and Kurt took his place in the middle seat. The navigator was in the shop, so they had to share Finn’s truck. It was awkward with the space, but Finn liked his truck, and he liked sharing it more.

“Yeah, what spell did you and Rachel do to always get paired up?” Kurt asked him, an eyebrow raised. “Because at this point the universe is just making sure you two stay together.” Finn snorted, but even he felt the bit of tension behind Kurt’s gaze. He knew Rachel hadn’t said anything to Kurt since that day and he also knew Rachel was planning something to apologize to Kurt and Quinn. He fell into his own thoughts as Sam and Kurt talked about the glee assignment, both pressing each other for details.

Rachel was a good person; he knew that for sure. Finn also knew that Rachel really needed someone in her life to tell her no, to tell her to stop, to remind her to think of others. Finn needed that same person. Rachel had done it before; hell, she had thought of protecting Kurt long before Finn got with the program, and she was more than capable of doing it more often than not. Everyone had flaws; Finn included. But it just tended that Rachel’s flaws hurt others before they hurt her.

He loved Rachel. He’d do anything for her, and he knew she’d do the same. He also knew Rachel would do anything for her friends. Finn just needed to help her realize it.

It would just take time.

“Anyways, I think Tina and Puck will be the best surprise,” Kurt said, bringing Finn back into the conversation. “I’m guessing something pop-punk, probably a lesser-known artist.”

Finn and Sam nodded in turn.

“Who do we think will be a disaster?” Sam asked with a knowing smirk. The three boys shared a look as Finn pulled into the parking lot, his truck clanking as he pulled into his spot near the front entrance. Being a senior (and the quarterback) had it’s perks.

“I say it’s Artie and Rory.” Sam finally decided, Finn and Kurt considering it. “They’ll be infighting the whole time.”

“I think it will be Sugar and Mike. She’s just so……” Kurt trailed off, and finally added, “extroverted.”

“Yeah,” Sam and Finn said, simultaneously sighing. “Poor Mike.” Sam opened the door, sliding out and waving to Puck, who had also just arrived, leaning against the wall trying to look like he was smoking. Finn shut off his truck as they exited. Sam helped Kurt out of the car, the shorter still a little wobbly. Finn was turned, but heard the voice of some jackass call out some whistles to Sam and Kurt, mocking them. Already angry, he whipped around to tell the guy off, but was caught in surprise when Kurt called out himself.

“Fuck off!” Kurt threw up a middle finger, the guy (Finn recognized him from the hockey team) drew back in shock and stumbled into the double doors. Puck and Sam broke out into guffaws as the teen sputtered, practically falling into the school hallway as Puck threw up his own middle finger at the guy.

“Nice, little dude!” Puck cheered, throwing up a hand for a high-five as the four walked into school. Finn watched as Kurt’s angry expression hesitantly grew into a smile, and he allowed Puck to throw (gently) an arm around his shoulders. Finn exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

He guessed Kurt would be okay after all.

* * *

Rachel had a plan.

First, she was going to apologize to Quinn, in person, with no ballad, no song, no music. She was going to apologize for the terrible things she had said, that she really didn’t mean it (she didn’t mean it, not at all, but that was no excuse) and she was going to work on her issues. And she was! Rachel had taken a really hard look at herself. She knew she had said all those terrible things about Quinn and Kurt in anger and embarrassment, but it didn’t matter. Rachel had to stop hurting people.

So she was working on a real apology.

She’d ask Quinn if she was ready first, because the other girl needed to be comfortable with her first.

If she wasn’t, then she’d patiently wait for Quinn.

If she were, or when Quinn was ready, she would sit her down and talk about her actions and her rant. She’d be open, she’d talk about her insecurities and their relationship and how she wanted to leave high school with her and Quinn being friends. It would as long as a talk as Quinn wanted. If or when Quinn forgave her, she would stick to her word. She work so hard on it, on her relationships with the others.

Rachel knew she wasn’t always the guilty one. It wasn’t healthy to think that; it was fair to also recognize that people had hurt her just as bad back. But Rachel had done a lot of damage for no reason other than her own dreams of stardom.

She though of the superstars, the Broadway legends who she admired but also knew they were so lonely, not because their talent couldn’t be touched and they had no peers, but because they had alienated their peers with their obsessions.

Rachel wanted desperately to be one of the Broadway legends people thought positively about in all aspects, as a co-star, as a cats member, as a mentor. She didn’t want to be at the top if she was lonely.

Which led to Kurt.

She felt so guilty and horrible every time she looked at him. She’d see his cast (which she hadn’t signed) and remember he was being a hero when she thought the worst of him. Rachel would watch him wince when getting into a seat, or when someone would carefully check his stitches if he asked. Rachel had assumed the worst about Kurt, who was supposed to be her best friend (and she wasn’t Kurt’s, no matter how hard she wished) who was really getting beaten in an alleyway for trying to save someone else.

She thought Kurt and Quinn were purposefully sabotaging her wedding when Kurt was saving a life and when Quinn was just trying to be a supportive friend.

Rachel peered behind her locker and watched Kurt put a textbook in his own, Puck and Mike talking animatedly behind him. Mike had Kurt’s bag over his shoulder (she knew those three had advanced lit together) and felt even more pained. She had two periods until she shared a class with both Kurt and Quinn, and she didn’t know what to do. She hadn’t been surprised yesterday when Kurt had joined Quinn’s table, where Puck usually sat. Now, she was sitting next to her former short-term boyfriend. Puck, of course, acted like nothing was amiss, but Rachel knew the truth.

She hadn’t been able to concentrate all period as she watched Quinn and Kurt work and whisper.

They hadn’t even glanced at her once.

Mouth set in a determined line, Rachel closed her locker, and prepared.

Today was a day for change, for a new Rachel.

She would be sure of it.

* * *

Kurt had a plan.

His restless night of sleep had him thinking.

He was going to sleep for an hour, wake up for twenty or thirty minutes, then go back to sleep, every night until his cast was off.

That would end the nightmares. The memories he didn’t want.

It would also prevent his usual side effects if he didn’t get at least six hours of sleep, such as his sleepwalking or sleep talking.

Sure, it would reduce his very good eight-hour average total to about six, but he desperately did not want to have those dreams again, at least not until he could actually figure them out. Kurt didn’t want to figure them out, anyways. It was the past, no matter how recent, no matter how much he knew he had to think of it. Pain was only temporary, it wasn’t permanent, it wouldn’t be a daily part in his life. Blaine had sent him links he had used to come to terms with his own bashing, his own pain, and Kurt was grateful that his boyfriend truly cared for his wellbeing.

But Kurt wouldn’t touch them because he didn’t need them.

Kurt wasn’t going to be a victim, so acknowledging any links about mental health, about dealing with fear, pain; they’d stay untouched bookmarks. Kurt remembered Blaine’s advice from two years past; to not be the victim, to stand strong. So that’s what he was doing! Giving those homophobes any thought that they had hurt him beyond broken arm and a few bruises kept Kurt from thinking about his internal pain. From the nightmares and the drifting.

Smiling, he took a seat next to Mike as the other teen and Puck, sitting a table over, got into a debate about some football player. Though he was closer to a lot of the girls, he very much appreciated the space the guys gave him when it came to serious subjects. Sure, they cared about him; Puck, Mike and Finn had taken him aside at the beginning of the year and had drilled into his head that if anyone gave him problems, Kurt was to call them first. (Sam was added to that list right when he came back to Lima.) But they also didn’t constantly pester him and ask if he was okay; they didn’t treat him like glass or delicately. It was what he wanted for so long, so secretly, to be one of the guys.

“Did you read the text?” Mike whispered to him, both of them opening their books in tandem and laughing as Puck sheepishly borrowed an old one off the shelf, yet again forgetting his book. “Because I . . . I did not,” Mike laughed. Kurt snorted, then shook his head. He had forgotten too, but he had a good excuse. Well, in actuality, not really. The book stayed on his bedside table for the few school days he was required to skip. Sure, Coach Sylvester had made it so he didn’t have to make up any work, but Kurt liked to stay on top of things.

_A Tree Grows in Brooklyn_ made him fall asleep, and Kurt was trying to avoid that.

“Nope,” he replied, popping the ‘p’. “I didn’t.”

Mike eyed his cast, pointing at it with his highlighter. “You have an excuse though,” he laughed, a bit too gently for Kurt’s wants. Shrugging, Kurt flipped to the page written on the board.

“Not really,” he admitted. “I had more than enough time to read it. The book is just…so boring.”

“Right?” Mike whispered, putting off the cap of his highlighter and randomly crossing a few words. “We’ve read six chapters so far, and I still don’t know what’s going on.”

“So far no trees have grown,” Puck whispered, a bit too loud, getting a harsh whisper from their teacher. Puck made an “oops, silly me” gesture at the teacher, before slinking back into his seat, hiding his phone between the book pages. Usually, as long as they were quiet, did their work, and weren’t too crazy, they could get away with phones. Today being a usual ‘just read, don’t bother me’ day from their teacher, they could probably get away with being a little less secretive. Kurt had gotten good at texting and making it look like he was writing, but with a cast, he couldn’t manage the sneakiness anymore. He’d have to settle with scrolling or reading.

Kurt read, or well, looked at the words on the page for about twenty minutes before he saw Mike pull out his notebook, placing it between him and Kurt before moving to write in it, using the new “passing notes” method.

_‘What are you and Quinn doing?’_ Mike wrote on his notebook, before turning back to his book and making it look like he was reading, despite the fact he was texting Tina. (It was honestly a miracle anyone in glee passed, with the methods they had to do anything other than schoolwork.) Kurt, grateful to use his casted dominate hand as an excuse, used his left to write in his own notebook. They had tested many ways of passing notes, and this had been the most successful one; writing in your own notebook, and the other would reply by writing in their own. It was harder for a person behind you, but they had gotten better at being subtle.

_‘A song : )’_ Kurt wrote, smirking. He could feel Mike roll his eyes and tried not to show his grin.

_‘Fine, don’t tell your best friend named Mike.’_ Mike wrote back, biting the tip of his marker to hide his laugh. _‘Even though I’m currently suffering with my partner.’_

_‘I could know a lot of Mikes, you know.’_ Kurt drew another smiley face. _‘But nope. You’re not getting anything. These lips are sealed.’_

_‘Sugar wants to do an interpretive dance to our song.’_

Kurt winced. That would be . . . interesting.

_‘And that song would be?’_

_‘Nice try. Sugar isn’t a bad dancer at all and she’s actually a decent singer when she isn’t screeching, but any hopes I had about winning are gone.’_

_‘Any predictions for who will win?’_ Kurt asked. He had a few theories. Mercedes and Blaine were high up there, they’d do something amazing, but Finnchel had favoritism (and talent) on their side. His dark horse was still Tina and Puck.

_‘You and Quinn.’_ Mike wrote. _‘Or Tina and Puck.’_

_‘Really?’_ Kurt was surprised. _“Why me and Quinn?’_

They both shot up when the bell rang. Looking at the time, Kurt realized they had spent a lot more time writing than he had thought. Skootching out of his chair, he placed his notebook and book bag in his bag and waited for Mike to explain. Before he could leave, though, James Kiehl, one of the basketball players who sat behind him, tapped him on his good shoulder, nodding at him when Kurt turned in surprise. Mike and Puck instantly were at his side, the pair glaring at the other boy.

“Yes?’ Kurt asked, a bit confused. James had never spoken more than a few sentences over the school year to him, and it was usually to ask to borrow a pencil or some paper or ask what he had missed in class. Why he never asked his tablemate, Kurt didn’t know, but he also never thought about James. James, easily reading the tension, held up his hands in defense.

“Woah, boys,” he looked a bit caught off guard. “I just need to ask him something.”

“So ask,” Puck told him. Kurt resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He didn’t believe James had meant any harm. “Can be between us four.”

“It’s private,” James looked to Kurt. “You get it?”

Kurt considered him for a moment. James never insulted him, never yelled or harassed him. They had very little interaction, and when they did, it was short, polite and simple. There was no threat. Mike and Puck were just being overly cautious.

“Can you call your guard dogs off for just a minute or two?” James asked. When Puck and Mike didn’t try to move, James sighed. “Look, I just have a private thing to tell him. You can stand outside the door. I’m not going to hurt him.”

“It’s okay,” Kurt reassured them. Rolling his eyes when Mike did the ‘I’m watching you’ gesture and letting Puck take his bag, he sat back in his seat and motioned for James to talk when the pair were outside the door.

“I just, I wanted to thank you. In person.” James started, shocking Kurt a bit.

“Thank me?” Kurt scrunched his nose in confusion. “For what?”

“My cousin’s name is Chandler,” James said. It took him a minute, but the realization came to Kurt quick. He hadn’t thought about Chandler since that day, he hadn’t even officially met the younger teen for more than ten minutes, but the last name made sense now. Giving James a gentle smile, he relaxed his shoulders. James seemed to relax too, letting out a breath. “Our family wasn’t…we weren’t open, at first.” James admitted. “But we would have never disowned him or anything. We just didn’t understand. But,” he paused, Kurt watching as James looked away, seemingly contemplating, “almost losing him made us all realize that he’s more important than any confusion we have. When I found out it was you that saved him…I made the case to our lesser accepting family members.”

“That’s amazing,” Kurt smiled. “Chandler is lucky to have a family that accepts him, not everyone does.”

“Yeah, it took us some time,” James admitted, a bit of shame on his face. “But most of us got out heads on straight now. The rest, well, they either need to get with the picture or not bother talking to us.”

“That’s a good mentality to have,” Kurt stood. “Thanks for telling me this. Is Chandler doing alright?”

“Yeah,” James stood as well. “He’s more scared than anything, but a lot of the kids at his school seem more accepting than the ones here. He’s got a lot of friends to look out for him.” James peered around the door, where Mike’s and Puck’s figures were. “Looks like you do too.” He nodded at Kurt, then held up a hand to fist-bump. Kurt snorted, following through, and watched as James nodded at the pair as he walked through the door, leaving Kurt behind with his thoughts.

“Yeah,’ he said to himself, just quiet enough for his friends not to hear. “I do.”

He knew it.

Everything was going to be just fine.

* * *

*******NEW DIRECTIONS GROUP CHAT*******

**Artie.A:** warning **@Kurt.HH** JBI is stalking the halls looking 4 u rn

**Artie.A** : he has his camera

**Kurt.HH** : Dammit. Why?

**Artie.A:** he wants a interview. > : [

**Tina.CC:** Yeah, he asked me how I felt about the ‘resident gay’ (barf) getting beaten up.

**Tina.CC:** I wanted to smack him with my heel, but I knew he’d just use it on his blog.

**Quinn.F:** Can’t he leave us, especially **@Kurt.HH** , alone?

**Santana.L** : He can interview me if he likes!

**Santana.L:** I can teach him boundaries, personal respect, leaving people the fuck alone…

**Blaine.A** : I can talk to him all about boundaries. Would anyone like to join me? **@everyone**

**Noah.P:** im dwn

**Finn.HH:** me 2

**Sam.E:** ^^

**Kurt.HH:** Don’t bother everyone.

**Mercedes.J:** Kurt ILY so much but if you tell us to take the high road, I’m going to tape you to a chair and then everyone else is going to give JBI a piece of our minds.

**Kurt.HH:** I wasn’t going to, promise. I’m taking care of this myself.

**Santana.L** : Oh damn.

**Santana.L:** Hummel’s getting feisty. I like it.

**Noah.P** : He tld greg frm hockey to f off 2day

**Santana.L:** WHAT

**Tina.CC** : WE MISSED IT?

**Mike.C:** YOU DIDN’T TELL US YOU DID THAT

**Artie.A:** NO ONE RECORDED IT?

**Kurt.HH:** What’s the big deal?

**Kurt.HH:** He was being an asshole!

**Quinn.F** : Watch your language <3

**Finn.HH:** It ws epic

**Finn.HH** : greg ran in2 wll

**Blaine.A:** Aw baby look at you. Cursing and everything.

**Blaine.A:** We’re so proud.

**Kurt.HH:** Seriously someone explain before I lose my mind.

**Mercedes.J:** Kurt you are usually more creative with telling people off.

**Santana.L:** You’re the only one besides me with an “A” in insults.

**Santana.L:** telling people to fuck off was never your style.

**Noah.P:** I ws so imprss.

**Sam.E:** it was so cool

**Kurt.HH:** Okay okay okay yall can cool it now.

**Kurt.HH:** Im not going to tell him to fuck off.

**Santana.L:** Damn.

**Blaine.A:** Good choice. Don’t waste your energy on him.

**Quinn.F:** He just wants attention.

**Kurt.HH** : I’m just going to drop kick his camera across the school.

**Blaine.A** : Uh?

**Noah.P:** YESSSSS

**Santana.L:** Nice.

**Santana.L:** Kurts on a roll today.

**Quinn.F** : **@Kurt.HH** Please don’t.

**Quinn.F:** You’d just be giving him the attention he wants.

**Mercedes.J:** As much as I would love to see that little jerk lose his precious camera, I have to agree with Quinn and Blaine here.

**Mercedes.J:** He’s not worth it.

**Kurt.HH:** Fine.

**Kurt.HH:** Then **@Everyone** has to leave him alone too. Agreed?

**Santana.L:** Whatever

**Finn.HH:** fine

**Sam.E:** okay

**Noah.P:** I only promise if JBI doesn’t start shit

**Noah.P:** then im telling him my feelings.

**Kurt.HH:** Go ahead.

**Brittany.SP:** I told jbi u hd guards now **@Kurt.HH**

**Brittany.SP:** he askd if mr.motta hired them

**Brittany.SP:** idk who he is but I sd yes

**Brittany.SP:** cause ur dad : )

**Brittany.SP:** he lked scared

**Brittany.SP:** was tht good?

**Santana.L:** Brittany, that’s perfect.

**Kurt.HH:** ILY Britt Britt.

**Brittany.SP:** yay! < 3 < 3

* * *

Mercedes tossed her bag onto the piano, wriggling out the kinks in his shoulders as she took a seat next to Blaine, who was idly tapping the keys. Phone in hand, she frowned as she scrolled trough the chat, rereading Kurt’s messages, trying to understand what exactly was off about them. At the moment, Tina, Sam and Artie were using the chat to debate some sort of superhero she didn’t even know, but she still stared at Kurt’s messages. Eyeing Blaine, who didn’t seem phased, she tapped on the lower keys, pulling up their song.

“Does something seem off about Kurt to you?” She asked, placing her phone on the stand so they could look at the key changes. Blaine’s expression didn’t change, but he gently smiled at her, and shrugged. To Mercedes, Kurt was off and different at times since coming home from the hospital. She couldn’t blame him for being short or snarky; even without the injuries, being sent to the hospital would make anyone angered and upset. Though, she didn’t like seeing these little qualities in Kurt that hadn’t been there before. It was funny, sure, to hear how their resident countertenor just plain tell someone to F-off or imagining him drop-kick a camera across the school, but it wasn’t _Kurt._

“I think he’s just…cranky.” Blaine explained, thankfully having caught onto her underlying message. “He’s still in some pain and it’s cold and damp outside.” He leaned down, pulling out his own notebook-Mercedes held in a snort when she caught the cover; pictures of him and Kurt- and watched as he pulled out sheet music and put it next to her phone. “Plus he knows he can’t get away with hiding his pain right now. He doesn’t like people coddling him.”

“Yeah,” Mercedes agreed, removing her phone (a little annoyed, Blaine was such a boy scout with his preparedness) but she still felt off about Kurt. “It’s just that…he never lets people bother him like that.”

“Telling some hockey player to F-off?” Blaine filled in. “Yeah, that’s a little new.” Blaine tapped at the keys again. “I think he’ll be okay in a few days. He just started going back to school yesterday, so now people are giving him attention he doesn’t want.”

“I guess so,” she let the feeling slide away. Blaine, from the little she knew, was a bit more of an expert on these sorts of things compared to her. Sure, she was the first (or well, first friend) to become a master at Kurt-ese, but Blaine knew Kurt in ways she never would. (Ew.) She knew Kurt always bounced back, even if it took a while. Mercedes supposed it would be alright, it would just take time. “You’re right,” she decided. “It’s Kurt. He’ll be back to his creative, fun self in no time.”

“Of course!” Blaine grinned at her, hugging her from the side. “He will be. And if he needs help, you and I will lead the charge.” He winked, then flipped to the page they were working on. “The best way to do that? Give him and Quinn a little competition.” Snorting together, Mercedes cracked her knuckles playfully, randomly tapping rapidly at the keys for fun, laughing harder at Blaine’s pout; he hated when people messed with the piano.

“We’ve got this in the bag,” she grinned. “When we win, you can take Kurt out on a date, and Sam and I can have one that _doesn’t_ involve Star Wars.”

“We’ll double date,” Blaine decided. “We can brag about our win and tease them about how close they came to doing so. We’ll be humble.”

‘Yep,” Mercedes cleared her throat, ready to practice. “What’s a better motivator than competition? Kurt will be just fine when he realizes how good were going to be. I imagine he’s convinced Quinn to do something bold.” Laughing again, Mercedes felt her off-mood drift away. Blaine knew Kurt better than a lot of people, and she knew Kurt would eventually be honest if something was really bothering him. She knew that trying to get him to open up when he wasn’t ready would just set him off, or close him off, so treating him as normal as possible would be the best route for now.

If he wasn’t alright, she would be there for him, as would everyone else.

Everything was going to be alright. 

* * *

Kurt stared at his reflection, dark eyes blinking back at him. From his calculations, he had gotten about five hours of sleep total, with maybe an extra hour of just lying still with his eyes closed. He felt dead tired, but he didn’t care much; there had been no nightmares. In a bit of pain-since he had skipped taking his usual half-pill to avoid deep sleep-he managed to pull on a larger sweater. He needed to look as normal as possible; he could put a bit of concealer under his eyes, moisturize, and maybe convince Sam and Finn to leave early enough to pick up a coffee. Sure, he knew he couldn’t get away with skipping the morning pain pill, but he could hide the tiny bits of sharp pain in his head and arm.

It would all be worth it when he got his stitches out this weekend, and when his cast would hopefully come off the next month. No longer having visual reminders would do wonders for him, it would prevent those nightmares, and he would be back to normal.

He eyes his reflection again. Dark eyes stared back at him.

He would be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for next chapter:
> 
> "I'm fine," Kurt's voice cracked as he tried not to cry, exhaustion coating his veins and weighing down his bones. "Please, just listen to me-"
> 
> "Kurt," Mr. Schue gently placed a hand on his shoulder, "I think you just need a break. Why don't we go to the nurse-"
> 
> "No!" Kurt yelled, voice breaking. Kurt ignored the way Blaine stepped closer, trying to draw him in and back, Finn moving to do the same. "I'm alright! If you-if everyone would just listen to me-I just need-" he stuttered, hands turning into fists, the fingers on his casted hand scratching against the cloth. "I just need everyone to fucking listen!"


	4. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt finds out something that ruins his plans to heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I play around with medical and legal things. Ignore it. I also couldn't come up with good enough songs for these duets. I just picked a few artists and you can fill in the blanks.

_Two and a half weeks since the almost-wedding._

Blaine knew something was wrong with Kurt. Despite Kurt _acting_ like his usual self, just with sounding a bit tired and looking a bit worn, Blaine could tell that his boyfriend was anything but okay. He wondered if it was the injuries; Blaine knew from experience that there were days when the healing was really fast and it would hurt the most. Kurt’s stitches were out, his bruises were almost gone, and his only true noticeable injury was the broken arm.

He knew it wasn’t _just_ the injuries.

Kurt was an expert at hiding his feelings behind a mask. Blaine had gotten good at seeing behind that mask, plus the fact Kurt didn’t hide behind a mask with him anymore, but Kurt had seemingly painted one on in permanent marker. It was the way he could tell how Kurt was so tense; his arms were stiff, and his smiles looked a bit pained, he wasn’t relaxed sitting in his chair, his eyes glazy as he watched Artie and Rory sing. Kurt had gotten to Glee before him, taking a corner spot on the second row of seats. Blaine had happily grabbed the seat next to him and drawled in Kurt to cuddle for a bit before everyone arrived, trying to ease some of that tension, but Kurt didn’t seem focused.

Blaine was going to ask, but everyone else seemed to arrive in a haste, so Blaine hadn’t been able to really check on him.

Now, he was stuck between watching Rory and Artie get increasingly passive-aggressive during their duet, and Kurt, who seemed to be drifting away somewhere else. He still was holding Kurt’s hand, their arms resting on top of his leg, and he could feel Kurt’s fingers twitching under his own. Leaning in, as the instrumental took over, Artie and Rory breathing heavily as they tried to calm down from their anger, he whispered: “Are you okay?”

“Oh,” Kurt jumped a bit, a little shaken, and Blaine gripped his hand in apology, leaning in to calm his boyfriend a bit. “I,” Kurt blanked, still a bit shaken, and Blaine felt bad about startling Kurt, but Kurt continued on. “I’m just tired. Didn’t sleep well last night,” Kurt gave him a small smile, a weak one, yet Blaine could tell it was a real one. Hoping Kurt was telling him the truth, the full truth, he helped Kurt settle back in. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice their little conversation, still to caught up in the Rory v Artie fight.

“Maybe after this you can just see the nurse?” Blaine whispered, as Mr. Schue awkwardly took the room again, Rory and Artie taking seats far from each other. Kurt shook his head, eyeing Artie awkwardly as he took the empty spot in front.

“I’m okay,” Kurt whispered back. “I’ll just go to bed earlier tonight. I need to anyways since Quinn and I perform tomorrow.”

Blaine playfully nudged him, smiling lightly. “Mercedes and I perform too.” Kurt replied with another half-smile, but Blaine could tell it was pained this time. Blaine just chalked it up to Kurt being tired. Keeping an eye trailed on Kurt, Blaine tried to settle back in to watch the growing rivalry, as Artie and Rory shot daggers at each other from across the room.

He’d ask again later.

________________

Kurt stabbed at his salad halfheartedly, trying not to drift as he listened to his friends talk, the courtyard filled with noise. His head still hurt, but less so than before. The cool air was helping with the uncomfortable heat across his body; the dull itchiness that was under his cast. He still had a good month left on the cast, which seemed so long away. His bruises and stitches were gone, save for a few scars that still littered across his body.

A month left of his sleep schedule, then everything would be okay.

“-okay, Kurt?” Blinking again, he felt Finn’s hand on his shoulder, rubbing gently. He looked up at his older brother, nodding quickly, trying not to look too hazzled. His plan wouldn’t work if someone found out about it. If Blaine knew, or Finn knew, or Sam, or Mercedes, or pretty much _anyone_ with quick access to his dad, he’d be screwed, and he’d be back to the nightmares.

He hadn’t had one in one and a half weeks.

With a start, he realized he’d been locked in his head again, with Finn still staring at him inquisitively. He was suddenly much happier when the memory of Blaine telling him he and Mercedes were using lunch to practice their duet one last time before tomorrow. Finn would let this incident go, at least the one time. Blaine wouldn’t, especially after Kurt had drifted during glee.

“I’m okay,” he started, patting Finn’s hand awkwardly. “Just a tired.”

“You sure?” Finn asked, very quickly, making Kurt wonder if he should take back his previously thought statement. “You aren’t in any pain? Because Burt gave me a few of your pain meds just in case- ”

“No!” Kurt interrupted, a bit frantic. Pain meds would make him tired, which in his state, would make him sleep. He wanted to avoid that. Turning pink; their friends, who were terrible at trying not to look like they were eavesdropping, he took a breath and calmed down. “I really am just tired.”

Finn, either placated by Kurt’s excuse or just wanting to let it go, smiled at him and turned back to Puck. Artie, who had been the worst at trying to look like he wasn’t eavesdropping, nudged him a bit awkwardly.

“Kurt, so who do you think better today?” He asked, a smirk on his face, jutting his head to Rory, who was sitting at the courtyard table next to theirs. Turning, Kurt eyed the Irish teen, ignoring the heated glare Artie was sending his way as he fed Sugar bites of some sort of sandwich. “Because I think I destroyed that Elvis number. He was okay, sure, but I absolutely rocked it.”

“Uh,” Kurt paused. He hadn’t even realized Arie and Rory had done an Elvis number. He hadn’t been paying much attention. “It was great,” he decided, lying. “You were great.” Artie grinned at him, about to reply, when Puck cut in, leaning across Finn to get closer to the pair.

“Dude was about to fall asleep,” Puck grinned, mocking a bit. “I don’t blame him. Elvis is just too old-school, man.” He pointed at Artie dramatically. “Everyone knows Tina and I killed it with that MCR mash-up. Right, Kurt?” Kurt inhaled; he didn’t even remember Puck and Tina performing. Putting on a mask, he tried to look like he was considering it, throwing an eyebrow raise in Artie’s direction, hoping the other teen would do the conversational work for him.

“Whatever dude,” Artie blew him away with the wave of his hand. “All is that if my song wins, it was because _I,”_ Arie emphasized, angling so that Rory would hear him. “Did ninety-nine percent of the work.”

Kurt took a bite of his salad.

Maybe with a little food in his stomach, he’d remember what had happened in the day.

He hoped he would remember.

________________

Quinn watched Kurt put things into his locker. She was worried; they all were. Well, the ones who weren’t caught in another dumb glee competition that Finn and Rachel would either end up winning or rigging. Especially the ones who had come to learn Kurt’s tells; the way his eyes would go downcast at attention sent his way rather than staring the person straight on, his shoulders going slumped or stiff rather than his usual good posture, or even the way he simply sounded _tired._ She couldn’t blame him, not one bit.

She wondered if he was physically okay or if it was something else. Quinn was well-versed in masks, especially ones that hid the strongest of emotions and pains. Physical pain wasn’t something Quinn really hid; Coach Sylvester could read any eyebrow twitch or strained smile that was forced, trying to hide sprained ankles or pulled muscles never went over well. Sure, she made you work through it, but you also had access to the best ice baths and physical therapists in Ohio, so you never had to worry about your physical senses as a Cheerio.

Emotional pains? Quinn was acing those classes. She knew how to hide every strong emotion like it was candy in her desk. Sue didn’t want to know if your boyfriend had cheated on you or if your dad was cheating on your mom. If you could do a flip with a smile, stay dedicated to the cheerios, that’s all that mattered. Sure, Sue had her ways in showing she cared, like sending every girl home with a new backpack filled with feminine products and bathroom products saying they were sponsored when really it was for a freshman who was living in a group home.

It didn’t take away from the fact that Sue was the reason her pregnancy hit the school blogs too early for Quinn to plan for.

It didn’t take away from all the times she tried destroying the one thing that made her happy in all her darkest times.

It just made her complicated.

Quinn took a breath and stepped forward. Kurt was like her, in a way. Sure, he was…much kinder than her for the most part, even with his snark and sass, but she and Kurt were like two peas in a pod when it came to hiding emotions. Walking, making sure Kurt saw her first (she had seen how jumpy he’d been during the day) and smiled gently. Kurt maybe needed someone who wouldn’t ask if he was okay; she knew he’d been asked that enough the past few weeks. It’s not like he’d answer honestly anyways-that’s what boyfriends were for.

“You ready for tomorrow,” she asked, when finally close. “I think we’re going to blow them out of the water.” Quinn noted that he seemed to relax when she asked about the competition, meaning she’d been on the right track about the constant asking about his feelings.

“Yeah.” Kurt rubbed at his eyes, Quinn noting the dark circles that appeared suddenly when he moved his hands away. Foundation. “Going last with our number will certainly leave a mark. I hope we’ll nail it.”

Quinn made a note to text Mercedes as soon as Kurt walked away.

“We will,” she agreed. She just hoped Kurt was _just_ in physical pain because that could be healed much quicker. Emotional pain?

Quinn might be an expert at hiding it.

She wasn’t good at dealing with it.

___________________

“I wanted to apologize, for what I said the day of my wedding.” Rachel started, her hands clasped in front of her, trying not to look as small as she felt. Quinn stared back at her, her own hands clasped in her lap, staring back at her with curious eyes. She hated this part; apologizing, not because she wasn’t guilty but because of the way it made her feel. “I know you were there for my rant, but I want to go line by line and apologize for each thing. Obviously, none of what I said wasn’t true, but that doesn’t matter, because I still said it and it still had consequences.” She took a breath, wishing she had her paper in front of her, but her dads had warned her against it, saying it looked too much like a criminal apologizing to his victims.

“Rachel, Rachel, _stop_ ,” Quinn held up her hands, standing up and walking closer. “I’d rather you not. It wouldn’t be good for us, anyways.” Rachel held back tears. She was truly sorry, she was, but apologizing was hard. “Listen. Just speak from the heart, and I’ll say my piece after, okay?”

Taking a breath, Rachel nodded. “Okay.” She straightened her back and blinked away the tears so they wouldn’t fall. “I am deeply sorry for what I said back at the courthouse, about you, about Kurt. You were there for me, for Finn, and I assumed the worst when one little thing went wrong. I jumped to conclusions, I was egotistical, and I said all the wrong things.” Rachel’s vision cleared, and she was surprised to see Quinn with a little smile on her face. “What I said, Quinn, it’s all wrong. It meant nothing, but I know that’s not what matters. I know what I said hurt you, that it affected you negatively, that it stung, and I was supposed to be your friend.”

She took another breath.

“I want to be better because I really do want to be your friend. Without the ego, without the competition, with the hurt.” She reached forward, aiming for Quinn’s hand, growing warm when Quinn allowed it. “But I want it when you’re ready.”

One last breath.

“Quinn,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

There was a few moments of slightly awkward silence, with the way she was holding Quinn’s hand, standing in the middle of the choir room. After a few minutes, Quinn met her gaze, smiling the way that Rachel knew, deep down, that a small part (and Rachel would accept any part) of her apology had been accepted.

“Rachel,” Quinn started. “I accept your apology.” Rachel felt her whole body relax, she tried not to get too excited. She had to be patient. “What you said did hurt, but the fact is, you were stressed, and what with our previous relationship up to that point, there is a small part of you that would have been right about me trying to mess things up. Sure, I didn’t appreciate the whole rant, but since I spent the better parts of Freshman and Sophomore years harassing you, and the fact I was also trying to ruin glee club when we first really started being in the same place, still was probably in your mind, right?”

Rachel nodded. She didn’t have many words for this moment.

“I’m, look I’m not trying to say what you said is okay because of our previous relationship was complicated. I’m saying we weren’t perfect best friends who had a movie moment of betrayal. I know that I also hurt you in the past, that you hurt me, that we hurt each other.” Quinn squeezed her hand. “I’m saying…lets start over. A clean slate. One where we just be friends. Can we do that?”

Rachel felt her heart soar. “Yes,” she replied. “I’d love that.”

As Quinn let go of her hand to go grab her bag, Rachel felt a lot more confident. Sure, it was three months into the new year, but she was ready for a new, new years resolution.

She hoped she could do the same with Kurt.

________________

Kurt regretted the extra thirty minutes of sleep he had last night. Sure, he felt physically better, and his mind was a little clearer, but he had the same memory-dream he had two week ago. Shoving his math textbook into his locker, he tried to think of a solution. Maybe once the duets competition was over, and his friend’s main worries became classwork and prepping for nationals at the end of the school year, Kurt would feel fine. His cast would be off by then, so he would no longer have a visual reminder of that day.

“Kurt Hummel! Kurt Hummel!” Kurt gritted his teeth and groaned; he knew that voice. Turning, he was suddenly face to face with Jacob Ben-Israel and whatever video-club boy he had bribed to follow him with the camera. Turning, not even bothering with whatever the other teen wanted from him, he strutted down the hall with his head held high. Jacob didn’t seem to get the hint, though, as he followed him at a awkwardly fast pace, frantically holding the mic in front of his face.

“My bloggers want to know, how do you feel about Mitchel Smith and Cordon James only getting the minimum sentence for gay-assault of you and a Chandler Kiehl, even with the added time for the political aspects?”

Kurt stopped dead in his tracks.

“Minimum?” He asked.

“Thirteen months!” Jacob chirped back. Kurt watched him motion for the boy holding the camera to zoom in on his face. “With possibility of parole after nine months! How do you feel?”

Kurt felt like throwing up.

________________

Kurt couldn’t concentrate. Everything felt fuzzy and blurred, like watching a show on a hotel television; where you sort of knew what was going on and got the general idea, but it wasn’t clear at all. His head a light, dull ache, one he could easily ignore, but it was still there. Shaking his head, he tried to come to his senses; he was in glee, watching as Rachel and Finn did their duet. They were still the obvious favorites of Mr. Schue, but even with his altered state, Kurt could tell it didn’t matter. Finn and Rachel just didn’t seem to have their hearts into it; the energy was fake.

He wondered if they were doing okay.

Sighing, he sunk lower into his seat. He was exhausted, but it would all be worth it. He hadn’t had a nightmare in over a week, he had sacrificed his sleep down to five and a half hours a night, and had no visions, no memories that terrified him, or ones that he couldn’t understand. Kurt still hadn’t figured out who that man in the alleyway was, even his dad hadn’t known. All his dad and Carole knew was that a good Samaritan had scared the guys off, being in the Lima Bean himself that day and following Chandler right out the door.

It was weird, Kurt thought, that something that had happened to him only came back to him in pieces. It wasn’t amnesia, the doctors had confirmed that, but they had explained to him his injured state and fresh concussion right after the attack would lead to gaps in his memory. Sure, in total it was about an hour of lost memory, but it was just strange, being technically awake and aware but having no memory. Kurt couldn’t even tell if he wanted those memories back; sure, they were his nightmares, but Kurt also didn’t like not knowing quite what had happened to him.

Halfhearted claps brought him out of his zoning, Kurt blinked to clear the glassiness of his eyes. Mr. Schue was the only judge standing, as usual for his love for Finchel, but Kurt could see the disappointed look on his face. Finn and Rachel took their seats as Mr. Schue took the front of the room again, doing his usual ‘round of applause’ slow clap. He tried to focus on his voice, but everything felt muddled.

He was startled for a quick second as Mercedes leaned into his space, and she patted his leg apologetically as she whispered, “If they win, then I say we revolt.” He nodded, only agreeing for her sake. It wasn’t like he disagreed, but he couldn’t even remember what Finn and Rachel had performed, let alone even think about the mini competition they were having. “If anything, Blaine and I deserve first, for our wonderful performance,” she grinned, tapping Blaine’s leg from where he sat behind her, “and whatever you and Quinn do get second.”

“Alright guys!” Mr. Schue caught his attention again. “We have our last pair to end the day, then tomorrow its,” he slapped his hands against his thighs as a drum roll, “Time to announce the winners! But now,” he gestured to Kurt and Quinn, a grin on his face, “It’s time for Quinn and Kurt! Come on up, you two!”

Kurt stood, feeling the blood rush to his head.

Thirteen months. Nine with parole if they had good behavior.

He looked to the side, seeing Coach Beiste’s soft smile and thumbs up, Ms. Pillsbury’s excited claps, Coach’s Sylvester’s nod, Mr. Schue waving him and Quinn on.

Kurt was in the hospital for three days, two nights.

Quinn walked to the band, leaning in and checking on them.

Kurt had to have stitches on his face, neck and arms.

She took the spot next to him.

Kurt had a broken arm.

Thirteen months.

Nine with parole if there was good behavior.

“Kurt and I decided that there was only one artist, one song, that could define our high school experiences and the masks we put on.”

Kurt inhaled.

“With how people see us, how people saw us, how we saw _ourselves,_ and how we had a mantra.” She nudged him.

Kurt exhaled.

No one seemed to notice his internal fight.

“As they say- _The Show Must Go On,”_ Quinn said.

The lights felt too bright, the room too warm, the room too cold. He was tired, he was scared. When the sounds of the violin started, Kurt jumped, and his heart raced when they came to a screeching stop.

“Kurt?” Quinn whispered, her hand on his arm. It felt like a brander. “Are you okay?”

“Thirteen months,” he muttered. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. “Thirteen months.”

“Thirteen months until what?” Quinn asked, her voice too gentle. Suddenly, he was closer to Mr. Schue’s office. Mr. Schue was on his other side, boxing him in.

“Kurt?” He asked, sounding as gentle as Quinn. “Is everything okay?”

It felt like too much and nothing all at once. Everything was falling apart, piece by piece, so publicly. By the end of the day, everyone would know what had happened to him. He had to get through this day.

“I’m fine,” he said, a little too loud, his voice cracking. “I was just a little caught off guard.”

“He said something about thirteen months,” Quinn told their teacher, Kurt glared at her. She was going to ruin this. “I don’t know what he means.” Kurt saw, out of the corner of his eyes, Finn and Blaine stand and make their way towards him.

“I’m okay,” his voice rose a little, directing it at his boyfriend who had walked behind him to take his other side. Feeling trapped, he gripped his hands into fists. "I'm fine," Kurt's voice cracked again as he tried not to cry, exhaustion coating his veins and weighing down his bones. Everything was falling apart. "Please, just listen to me-"

"Kurt," Mr. Schue gently placed a hand on his shoulder, "I think you just need a break. It’s been a long month. Why don't we go to the nurse-"

"No!" Kurt yelled, voice breaking. Kurt ignored the way Blaine stepped closer, trying to draw him in and back, Finn moving to do the same. "I'm alright! If you-if everyone would just listen to me-I just need-" he stuttered, hands turning into fists, the fingers on his casted hand scratching against the cloth. "I just need everyone to fucking listen!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't love this chapter, but I believe this is the middle of our story.
> 
> Also, Admirabletragedy made memes for chapter 3: https://admirabletragedy.tumblr.com/post/643360332294799360/memes-for-kurtdeservesbetters-based-on-their-fic


End file.
